You're Always On My Mind
by ABitOfRomance
Summary: Jake and Hugh break something resulting in a hopeless romantic, who calls himself Carlisle, flirting with Miss. Peregrine, for Alma, it's been ages since anyone even has. She tries to resist his advances, but can she? Not to mention, as always, she has her children to worry about...(Takes place after LoS)
1. Chapter 1: Prologue

"Now, now…is that what a good little birdie does?" Caul asked though clenched teeth, his smile was always disgusting to Alma. Her black-blue hair no longer in the neat up do that it always was, her black mourning dress lay on the cold, concrete floor of her 'bird cage' along with her petty coat and corset. The lights overhead flickered and burnt bulbs remained unchanged. She'd just transformed back into a human with just enough decency to cover her naked self. Alma was what peculiars, like herself, called an Ymbryne, a woman who was able to change her physical appearance into the shape of a particular bird, ranging from ravens to owls to peregrines.

Every Ymbryne that she'd ever met had been a female as well able to manipulate time, normally, they'd become a headmistress of a home for children with different peculiarities. Alma's charges were of different families and sometimes no family at all from across Europe, except for one boy, Jake, who was from a place in America called Florida.

Miss. Peregrine thought of her children thanking the heavens that they didn't have to see their normally strong, independent mother figure in such a situation. Alma was never one to show her emotions on her sleeve and absolutely not in front of her brother. Sometimes, in moments of pure happiness, only brought out by her charges, she'd let a tear stream down her cheek, "the golden tears", she called them for she would lock this memory in a treasure chest in the back of her mind and come to it when she needed it.

Right now, she needed it.

"Please…" she begged knees to the floor, her dress bunched in her arms covering her chest. Her fallen strands of hair swaying as she rocked herself back and fourth, she wanted it to end, for Miss. Peregrine, it never did. She closed her eyes and let her head hang in defeat. She let the tears stream down her cheeks knowing it was exactly what her brother wanted. Alma was no longer the famous Ymbryne that was known to most all of the other Ymbrynes as the youngest and most successful with her children, as well as the youngest that Miss. Avocet, a well respected teacher and trainer to Ymbrynes, had ever taught. Miss. Alma LeFay Peregrine was no longer any of those.

After all these years, Alma's brother, Caul, had done it.

He had broken her.


	2. Chapter 2: If they're happy, I'm happy

She woke with a start. Tears and sweat streaming down and around her face.

"It was just a nightmare…I'm safe. I'm fine." She whispered to herself. She sat up and let her legs hang over the side of her bed, her empty bed. She was used to it so Alma simply brushed it off, not even looking to see if there was someone there.

She rested her head in her hands and after a few minutes of just sitting, eventually, she reached the clock and turned the face towards her.

 _5:23 a.m._

Alma sighed and got out of her bed walking to the bathroom. She ran the water as hot as it would allow and she began to undress from the sweat covered nightgown. She climbed into the the shower and just stood. Feeling the hot water wash over her, her body began to relax as she let out a sigh. She ran her fingers though her hair and was careful to avoid touching the scar that was almost directly behind her left ear.

Caul had left it there as a symbol of how much he "loved" his sister.

After she'd refused to let a few tears fall, she washed her hair and body, shut the water off and reached for a towel on the rack. She wrapped it around her body and stepped out. Alma wiped the steam off the mirror and looked at herself. There were dark circles beneath her eyes, a physical symbol that she hadn't slept well in a long while. She brought her hand to her cheeks and began to rub them in hope to bring them a bit of color.

 _Oh well, nothing a little makeup can't fix,_ she thought.

She sighed and smiled a real smile.

"Alma LeFay Peregrine? You're going to be just fine, you don't have any other choice." She told herself and took one last glance in the mirror. She walked out of the bathroom, pajamas in hand, and over to her walk-in closet. Throwing the nightgown in to the hamper, Alma picked out a pair of faded skinny jeans, a brown belt and a black and white plaid shirt. She found that this was a more modern style as opposed to the dresses that she used to wear. Digging in one of the drawers she found what she was looking for, her favorite bra. She toweled herself off and began to dress. She slipped on white socks and brown ankle boots.

 _Coffee first, hair and makeup later._ She enjoyed a cup of coffee from an instant coffee maker, she liked being able to have her coffee at the touch of her finger as opposed to having to pour water into a kettle with a coffee ground cup placed inside and waiting for it to heat. After about fifteen minutes of sitting in complete silence in the morning, a subroutine she had since moving to Florida, she put her cup in the sink and walked back to her bedroom.

She walked back to her adjoining bathroom and ran a brush through her hair, twisting it into a messy bun and began on her makeup, she started with a colored liquid and brush that she used to help hide her dark circles, next she did her blush, colored her eye brows and finally, the part that took the most time, her eyes. Using a different brush from the one she used to blend her foundation, an eye makeup brush, she applied an eye shadow that brought out her deep blue eyes. She then applied her eyeliner, this step, by far, took Alma the longest, then finally, her mascara.

* * *

Miss. Peregrine had begun breakfast as she always had before her charges were awake. During any other meal, she would have the older children help her except for breakfast, breakfast belonged to Alma. She thought that she'd treat them with the all time favorite, French Toast. She had already whisked the eggs, added the milk and vanilla and added a bit of melted butter, her secret recipe. She had a few slices of bread on the skillet in front of her cooking on the stove and a stack of slices already cooked on a plate.

As she sprinkled cinnamon onto the bread after dipping it into to batter, she heard the pitter-patter of tiny feet walking around upstairs, a toilet flush and then the sink running. When the assailant walked down the stairs, she still held her teddy bear in her arms and rubbed her eyes as she yawned.

"Good morning, Miss. Densmore." Miss. Peregrine greeted.

"Morning Miss. P." Claire answered, as she raised her hands, a signal for wanting to be picked up. Her wish was granted as Miss P. walked back to the counter to continue her task. She sat Claire on the counter, and as she saw what she'd been cooking she let out a squeal of excitement.

"Yay! Thank you Miss. P.!" Claire said as she swung her feet.

"Your welcome, Claire." Miss. Peregrine smiled as she flipped the toast. "Now, go wake the others…" she said as she helped Claire off of the countertop.

* * *

While they all sat at the breakfast table, Miss. Peregrine thought of them, her charges, actually, she thought of them as her children and they, their mother. She never had any biological children and thought that she had everything she'd ever want right there. She heard them laughing and eating, enjoying their favorite breakfast.

She needed to know that they were happy.

 _If they're happy, I'm happy._ She thought as she smiled and looked at the children, some of whom were no longer children. Yes, she loved them and she wanted nothing but the best for them, anything beneath that was not good enough. She wanted to protect them from the world, from the hate and misery that would be thrown their way simply because they were different, she protected them almost to the point of being overbearing.

"Can we Miss. P.?" Millard, the boy who had the extraordinary peculiarity of being invisible, asked as every set of peculiar eyes looked at her.

"I'm sorry?" Miss. Peregrine knew she was being rude but she was too busy lost in thought about the children she had no idea she was ignoring them.

"Can we go to the beach today instead of going for our walk?" he repeated the question.

"No, children. Not today, perhaps tomorrow." She answered and that was the end of it. When Miss. Peregrine said no, there was no arguing with her unless one wanted a punishment. The force of the punishment depended on how bad of a crime was committed. Thankfully, no one disobeyed her, 99.08% of the time.


	3. Chapter 3: Painter's Light

As her children played outside, finding different ways of amusing themselves, Alma sat in the study painting. Painting was something she'd do if he had an intense dream like the one she had the night before, it helped her think. She started with placing an image in her mind of a fire. She had gotten the idea after watching Emma produce fire from nothing but her fingertips. Alma wasn't a pyromaniac, but she found the color and the way it danced before her, astounding.

The mid-afternoon light shone through the open window casting the perfect lighting. _Painter's light_ was the name that was most commonly used to describe how it brought out the vibrancy of the acrylic. Her easel stood in front of her as she sat, her back to the window, the wind blowing a slight breeze down the back of her neck keeping her cool. Alma was normally accustomed to using brushes, but every few stokes she'd use one of her fingers to help blend to red to the orange, the orange to the yellow.

Sitting in her study, smoking her tobacco pipe, drinking tea that was not too hot nor too cold and painting, she was content. There was a Mona Lisa smile plastered on her face and could have been doing this for a few more hours at the most, then she'd have to prepare dinner, being as her and the children had already eaten their lunch.

A curious onlooker might have mistaken her for a famous painter or an art dealer.

 _CRASH!_

Immediately after hearing such a horrid clamor, her motherly instincts went into overdrive. She dropped the palette and ran to the place she believed to be the crime scene.

When Miss. Peregrine went out the back door then suddenly, she stopped on the porch. She looked around for a scene and found her charges looking over the fence toward the neighbor's house. Seeing that nothing was immediately wrong she called for her children. Her children, fearing the worst, meekly walked up to her when they were called.

"What on earth is going on out here?" she asked as she put her hands still wet with different paints to her hips. The colors ranging from a deep sunset to an off yellow. The yellows, were that of a golden hue to bright orange. The red could have been mistaken for blood. Miss. Peregrine wore what her children called "her death glare". When they noticed the reprimanding look on their headmistress' face, they all straighten their backs, looked to the ground and their breathing quickened.

Hugh spoke first, "Well, uh…Jake and I were playing with the football and…" he looked to Jacob for help.

"I threw it too far and well…" Jake answered as he looked at the ground beneath his feet as if he were watching the grass grow. "…we broke the neighbor's window. It was an accident…I didn't mean to…" he began.

Miss. Peregrine just raised her hand, signaling him to stop.

"Mr. Portman, Mr. Apiston? You will come with me." She simply said as she walked off and headed toward the house. Hugh looked at Jake who looked back, then over to Emma then back to Jake. The pair hung their heads as they followed suit. Once inside, Miss. Peregrine turned toward the boys, who quickly tried to explain themselves while at the same time apologizing, their words overlapping. Once again, Miss. P. raised her hand, but this time she shut her eyes as well. She breathed in a sigh and the boys quickly stopped.

"We well go next door, and you will apologize to the neighbor and tell them you will work for them until either the debt is paid off or until he thinks that you are no longer needed." She told them and they were both quick to agree knowing that the reprimand would be worse if they were to complain about it.

As the trio walked over, the two boys stayed toward the back and still hung their heads. When they reached the house, she had Hugh open the white picket fence and Jake ring the doorbell.

When the door opened, the first thing Alma noticed was his height. Being that she was only average height herself, this man was a good head taller than her. She observed him, picking up everything she needed within just a few moments. He was a tad rude, but can be confused with arrogance simply based on the way on the way he held his posture, but had fairly good hygiene, his facial hair was trimmed, yes, trimmed he had a fully grown beard, his black hair was short, and his nails were trimmed. He took care of himself. His shoulders where broad and didn't stand on two left feet. His whole attire had one of quiet confidence shown to her through the fact that his arms were crossed.

Alma had learned to read people though her children, she was able to tell what one was thinking, and knowing what one was possibly going to say; she didn't like what he was going to say, "I'm guessing that your children broke my window?" as he handed Hugh the football.


	4. Chapter 4: Books

"Boys?" Miss. Peregrine called. They walked up to the man, their heads still held low.

"We're sorry, Mister." Hugh told the man, speaking before Jake even had a chance.

"That's alright, thank you boys," He answered in an understanding tone. "I remember breaking my neighbor's window the exact same way when I was about your age."

Miss. Peregrine cut in before they had a chance to respond, "Mr. Portman, Mr. Apiston, you may head back to the house and wait for me in the living room." She told them plainly.

"Yes, ma'am." They almost whispered. She turned on her heels, as she had been standing behind them and gave them room to pass.

"Now," Miss. Peregrine began when the boys passed the fence and began to walk back home where they knew the rest of the children were waiting, "they'd be willing to work for you either until the debt is repaid or until their services are no longer necessary. I'd also be willing to pay for any damage that was done."

"…"

The man before her finally got a good look at her and simply stared into her eyes. Alma quirked an eyebrow and crossed her arms, almost becoming self-conscious but more angered, she found that staring was rude. She cleared her throat a few moments later in an effort to get him to respond, breath, move…anything! He just continued stare.

"Hello?" she tried.

"What? Yes, Carlisle." He answered, unable to recall what she had just said.

"What?" she asked not understanding what he'd just told her as his words were gibberish. "Anyway, my children would be willing to work for the damaged window which I'd be willing to pay and have them help replace it."

"That sounds good, would you like to come in and talk about it? Miss?" He trailed off.

Alma realized that she had not given the man her name, "Miss. Peregrine. Alma LeFay Peregrine." She answered as she reached out her hand intending for him to shake it, instead he cradled her hand in his, bent down and kiss it. Alma thought that this was an almost completely different man then the one who opened the door not two minutes ago.

"So, I'm taking that as a yes?" He asked as he moved from the doorway and unblocked it.

Every instinct, human and bird, told her that it was a horrible idea, she taught her children about the danger of strangers and what they were capable of, so she had her children only leave with: either herself, known friends and Ymbrynes.

"Of course," she answered, ignoring what her mind told her, Alma was the 0.02% that never listened to herself.

As she walked in she noticed only one thing: books. Books were scattered across the floor, in piles no shorter than a few feet high. They were placed on the countertops, on chairs, a thin layer of dust covered each heap as Alma had to maneuver her way across, around and on top just so that Carlisle would have enough room to shut the door. The books that weren't on the floor sat on shelves that sagged toward the middle. It looked as though someone had tried to clean, but eventually, gave up.

On top the books that weren't covered with the dust, there were stacks and few loose pages from what looked like an old-fashioned type writer.

"Your name, do you mean like, as in: peregrine falcon?"

"Yes..." she breathed

She just stood in awe, books were one of Alma's favorite things. She loved the way that a book was able to take her to a place she'd never imagined, show her worlds that she never dreamed, and well, living in a Time Loop that she had created to protect her and her charges from Wights and Hollowgasts, monsters that were a danger to the lives of her and every peculiar in the world, she had no other escape.

She thought of her home that was destroyed in Cairnholm, and she began to miss her library. She thought of the way she used to live and she began to miss her old life dearly, she thought of how happy her children seemed to be, but Alma hoped that if they were together, that they'd always be happy. She thought about the gardens with the bushes shaped like animals, courtesy of Fiona.

 _Fiona…Victor…_ though they were gone, Alma hoped that they lived on in her and her children's memory.

"Excuse the mess…" Carlisle began as he shut the door, disturbing Alma's thoughts. As there really was no room to move, he had come up behind Alma and stood too close for Alma's liking, after a few moments of awkward shifting on both parties, they were both in what looked like the living room, but not before Alma could elbow him in the ribs apologizing profusely once again, the first was for the window.

Carlisle rubbed his side were Alma had hit him, and asked if she'd like a drink. Alma was never one to shy away from a tiny sip of alcohol in the afternoon, being as she had a more stressful day than usual. She preferred brandy to scotch and, at dinner, wine to brandy.

"Of course," she answered still looking around, "are you an author?" she asked as he hopped, skipped and leaped over books and papers precariously sitting and lifting slightly looking as a ghost or hollowgast had just picked up the paper slightly and set it back down as he passed by.

"Yes, I am. Since I was younger, I loved to read and just decided one day to write. I just love the way that a book can take you to places that you couldn't dream." He told her as he handed her the glass, his fingers just barely brushing hers, honesty in his eyes, truth in his words.

Alma looked at him and grinned.


	5. Chapter 5: A Don's Bramble

She pulled her hand away, the glass coming with it. She had no reason to not trust that he hadn't added anything but the ingredients. The glass was filled with ice to the brim, the color was that of a purplish pink and a flower was placed in the cup off to the side like an umbrella would a pina colada, she did not ignore that he had taken to opportunity to give her the flower, as it was mainly used for decoration.

 _Maybe, he just likes good showmanship…besides, I should never marry again._

Alma had learned time and time again, starting when she was only a little girl, younger than her little Claire, that every man she had ever met seemed to want to hurt her with absolutely no motive, most of the time it was unintentional, that was the reason why she called Jacob, Hugh, Enoch, and Horace, her "boys", even after all those years. Even though they were aging normally, she wanted them still to be _her_ children, yes they always would be and she'd remain their "mother" of sorts, but how long would that last? Eventually, they would grow old and bored, wanting to see the world, wanting to fall in love and start a family of their own. They would leave Alma Peregrine. Yes, she knew that they'd visit and often, she'd see to it, but even then she'd lose them, slowly, painfully as if she were being cut open and unable to stop it without the heaven of passing out. She'd lose her babies, born before nightfall, and would have missed them grow up at midnight.

She put the glass to her lips and sipped. When she pulled it away, she half-heartedly smiled being very familiar with this drink. It was a Don's Bramble. The drink was sweet, and cold but sent a familiar burn down her throat.

Being as Carlisle hadn't invited her to sit, she looked for a place to set down the drink and get back to the reason she came in the first place, her reasons weren't for her getting a drink with the handsome, albeit, cocky man that lived just next door, it was because her charges broke that man's window.

"Sorry." he apologized, realizing what she was doing. He quickly and expertly maneuvered over the books to the couch and cleared a few stay papers and a laptop away. He indicated for her to sit as he set the items near the dusty television set. She sat, her legs crossed, her back straight and set her drink on a small table in front of her.

"So, about the window," Alma was always straight to the point, never one to mince words. "I can have it replaced by tomorrow but no earlier than that, being as it is already…" she pulled her pocket watch from out of her pocket. It was no longer the beautiful ornament that it once was, being as it was given her at what some might call a graduation ceremony of sorts. That day was well over a few centuries ago, however, it had endured. Yes, it had a few dents and scratches and a small portion of the clock had been burned, but she had taken care to polish and oil the gears every few months, so nevertheless, it still worked. She clicked the button and pried it open with her finger, "being that it is already 4:15."

"Okay." Carlisle simply said, "That sounds fair, I wouldn't want to keep Mr. Peregrine waiting…" Alma took offense to this and her brows furrowed, her smile fading.

"Excuse me?"

"Oh, I just assumed that a woman like you with all those kids…"

"Mr. Stewart, be as it may that I care for children does not necessarily make me their mother." she said, her heart aching a bit. "I am their carer, and if you must know, there is no Mr. Peregrine, nor will there ever be. My charges love me as I do them and that is it." She told him as she got up from the chair and made her way to the door, very clumsily, as she had almost finished her drink as they talked and walking over and around hedges of books did no help whatsoever. She reached for the door handle and twisted. She threw it open the only to have Mr. Stewart's foot jam it still.

"Miss. Peregrine," he said, careful not to use her first name as he thought it would only anger her more, "I didn't mean it like that, I just assumed…" he began.

Miss. P. cut him off before he had a chance to explain, "And that is the fault I see before me, you assume and do not keep an open mind, your window will still be replaced. Good day." She said plainly, trying to open the door, his foot still not moving. "I said good day, Mr. Stewart. Would you please remove your foot?" She commanded more than asked. Instead, he closed the door, Alma turning to face him, giving him her best death glare.

Everything was a blur and happened almost too quickly. He stepped toward her, snaked his hands around her neck, tangling in her hair and pulled her, crashing his lips into hers.


	6. Chapter 6: WATCH OUT!

Miss. Alma LeFay Peregrine was always a sure woman, she was confident in her abilities as a maternal figure, she knew what to tell her children in times of distress, she knew what needed to be done and was always sure she could do it, even if it meant asking for help. She was capable of great things and she knew this well, that was the main reason she was so good at what she did. The main reason why Miss. Avocet had spent so much time on her, making and shaping Alma into what Miss. Avocet knew she could become; one of the best Ymbrynes in the world, not to mention the youngest that was ever taught in Miss. Avocet's career.

Alma was strong, not necessarily in the physical sense but refused to break-even. She was smart with an aura of confidence. She was graceful and beautiful, instead of walking, she seemed to almost hover above the ground, being as she seemed too precious to walk on it, her heels only clicking in dramatic effect.

She had her quirks: smoking a tobacco pipe, which was normally only done by men in the century in which she grew up, she slept with a nightlight, a fear of the darkness she shared with Olive and Claire, her youngest charges. She wore glasses while she read her numerous books, in the kitchen she walked around with a small shaker of Cajun seasoning, claiming that life could be a bit spicier, she had to have certain things a certain way before she could even think to shut her eyes at night, and she always had to have the spare room door open, which sat almost directly in front of her bedroom door, for every time she passed, she would get a whiff of one of her favorite smells: old, dusty furniture.

Above all this, above being an Ymbryne, which in of that was deserving of a title, an amazing mother, teaching her children that life is so much more when you don't stand for social conformity, and a wonderful, peculiar person and a delight and joy to be around, if you didn't piss her off, above all, she was one hell of a woman.

She knew how to be a woman, and she knew it well, it wasn't something that could be studied and picked up like learning a language, womanhood, was her mother tongue and was one of only few who could speak it with her.

She knew how to gamble and how to play her cards so that she held all the aces, it was so simple to her, maybe that was why Emma, Olive, Bronwyn and Claire looked up to her. She prided herself in these traits, maybe pride was a sin but if no one knew…

The only problem was, right now, at this moment; she was blank.

She knew that about these qualities and traits she had in herself, she knew that she should have known how to react, but the problem was, she didn't. She didn't know what to do and it seemed to only increased her dilemma. The problem was the problem itself. She did not know what to do and that stunned her.

She didn't close her eyes, why would she?

She didn't breathe, she couldn't.

She didn't part her lips, inviting him in, she couldn't move.

She just stood there.

Finally, when Carlisle let her go, her mind slowly began coming back. She looked at him, unsure of what to do.

 _Wh…um... Did he…? Did we just?_

She blinked her eyes, just to make sure, of what? She didn't know. She blinked several more times as she moved her head diagonally. Slowly, she put her fingers to her lips as she always did when thinking. Then she raised her eyes to meet those of the man that kissed her. She stared at him a few moments, she was being rude but she didn't care. Alma squinted her eyes at him.

 _SMACK!_

She slapped him across the face. Miss. Peregrine wasn't a violent woman, for she could never remember if had she hit anyone in her life, now she had. She looked at him one last time, once again opened the door and this time, she was allowed to exit. As she slammed the door, she walked down the steps, reaching the sidewalk in only a few paces. She didn't know where she was heading but she kept on walking, as she lived just up the road, she decided to walk down.

Alma had turned her back walking down toward the direction of the super market. It was about a forty-five-minute walk but she didn't mind, she needed to get her head straight about what the hell just happened.

 _Why'd he do that? Is that why he was staring at me when I was at the door? Is that why he asked if I'd come in for a drink? Maybe if he…_

Alma stopped herself before that thought even began. She was thankful that she had that drink, as it dulled her senses slightly.

 _What am I thinking? I don't even know the man, let alone want to pursue him._

Unknowingly, her thoughts got the better of her and she drifted onto the road.

"WATCH OUT!" Alma heard someone yell as a car honked the horn.

* * *

Hey guys! I don't normally write things at the beginning and the end of my chapters but I thought, why not? I just thought I'd share that as of January 15, at 2:20 a.m I have well over 700 reads! Now, I don't know if that's a lot, but wow! There's more people that have read this than there are living in my town alone! Yes, by the way I come from a teeny-tiny town in the middle of the frozen frontier of Alaska...

Also I wrote another thingy. It's called Safe and Sound and it takes place between chapters 3-6. It's from the point of view of none other then Horace, check it out. It kind of explains why Miss. P. is having horrible nightmares.

Leave a review, mainly 'cause I've only got like four, two of which are from the same person, you know who you are! :P

-Your daily dose of romance.


	7. Chapter 7: Les Misérables

Miss. Peregrine looked toward the commotion just at the corner of the street. An older man had almost been hit by a car saved by what looked to be like his granddaughter. The man used a cane and seemed like he was blind, for his eyes were of a grayish hue and they had films over them. The woman was a pretty thing, she was taller than average, she had blonde hair that bounced and she wore business attire.

Miss. Peregrine found that odd, being that she and her charges lived in a neighborhood and the time was nearing 5:30, if the woman had just gotten off of work then she would still be driving home, being that it was rush hour, unless her job was only a few minute walk, however that could not have been the case, Miss. Peregrine did not believe there to be any businesses nearby that required formal wear.

She put too much thought into this and simply brushed it off just thankful that the old man's life had been spared another day.

She turned back down toward the market which was only about another block away, Alma had taken her time on her walk, knowing that the older children were more then capable of seeing to the younger ones.

As she walked, she thought of the kiss she had only received less than an hour ago. It was the first since…well, a very long while.

* * *

In the days of her youth, when women still wore dresses and corsets, petty coats and pantalets, Alma was only at the young age of five, before she knew she was a Syndrigasti. Even then, Lady Alma LeFay Bentham, the daughter of a highborn, whose kinsmen were that of the Bonaparte's, was sent with her bothers: Jack, whom preferred Caul and Myron, to live with their grandparents. There, she men a young boy, whose age she hadn't known until she, herself was much older.

That day, she had left to buy her grandfather a birthday gift: a tobacco pipe.

She had noticed that he smoked when she found him in his study, reading from what looked to be an old, thick paged novella. Her grandfather's study was colossal, at least to a small child of six as she had already spent one of her birthdays there. There were dozens of dusty books, candles that lighted the room, a fireplace that was taller than her and more wide than she was able to stretch her arms horizontally, above that, sat a large portrait of what Alma thought her grandfather in the days of his youth. He wore a military uniform, he held his gun and bayonet in one hand and his opposite leg resting on a few stairs with red carpeting.

Surrounding the room where different sculptures of birds in flight and resting on branches, there were several of these paintings, most notably one of a peregrine falcon, it's wings fully erect and looked as though wishing to leave the cage it sat in. Alma felt more than sorry for this bird as she felt naturally drawn to it. The way the wings looked like they were flapping only to be confined. The way it's eyes were that of the sun, however, dark. The bird's feathers were of black-grey.

"Grandpapa, what are you reading?" she asked

"Les Misérables, c'est un homme nommé Victor Hugo." He told her, his voice hoarse and deep.

"What?" she asked not understanding him.

"Les Misérables, it's written by a man named Victor Hugo." He repeated, translating his words.

"Can you read it to me?" she asked as she climbed on to his lap, his took his pipe from out of his mouth, set it on the small round table.

"What is Love? I have met in the streets a very poor young man who was in love. His hat was old, his coat worn, the water passed through his shoes and the stars through his soul…" he began.

This from then on this became one of Alma's favorite memories of her grandfather, however plagued by that of another man, the way the fire crackled in the fireplace keeping her warm, the smell of tobacco and smoke, the soft breathing of her grandfather's chest as he read to her, making his voice different to match the characters. The faint smell of alcohol that wafted through the room.

Little did she know that just behind the door she had entered sat her brother Caul, wanting what Alma had, even if little Alma didn't know what it was yet.

* * *

As she walked into the little corner shop, a place she had been taken to only a few days before with her grandmother, she'd wondered around the shop, more of a drug store of sorts, and had taken to notice there were more than a few tobacco pipes, she saw one made of a deep, brown wood, lacquered to make the surface smoother and more inviting to the hands. The mouth piece was one of black, it reminded her of the painted bird and she had a wonderful idea. She'd come back tomorrow with some money and she'd buy her grandfather a brand new pipe. She had to be alone, that fact was paramount, she had to be able to surprise everyone with what she could do and prove to her brothers that she wasn't a little girl anymore as they, most notably Caul, would pick on her.

The very next day, Alma awoke, got dressed and she, with all of her confidence, suppressed by a small body, and glory had left the house, making sure no one knew she was gone. As she turned the corner to the shop, she looked up at the words, she recognized them and walked in. She asked the keep to buy the pipe with what little money she thought she'd need.

When he rejected her, laughing at such a young girl wanting to buy a pipe, tears began streaming down her small, pale face. She walked out of the store, money in hand, and her ego odiously ruined. She turned the corner, only it wasn't the corner she was to turn, this lead to her being lost. Anxiety welled in her chest and she began to panic, unbeknownst to her, she began to run in the opposite direct in which she lived.

When she finally calmed down she wondered for hours till it was nearing dark, a small Alma was tired, cold and hungry, she sat on a park bench and began to cry as clouds welled up in the sky and it began to rain, it first, it was soft and cooling then large drops began falling and thunder rolled making her jump.

Hearing footsteps walking nearby, she called to the person, "He…hello?" she stammered. The stranger walked out of the shadows as he had been walking down the street.

He was a few years older but not much, he'd heard her plea and saw her crying he asked, "Oi, 'ittle laty, you lost?" his accent was British and she wondered how he had come to France.

"I…I went to buy…a gift…" she tried between sobs. "then…I got lost…" she told him, breaking into a new horrid fit of tears.

"Well, where do 'ya live?"

"Um, with my grandparents…" she looking toward his general direct, he looked at her and smiled.

"Well, your goin' to 'ave to be more exact…"

She wiped her eyes and finally looked at him as he stepped into a bit of light. His hair was matted and dirt went all the way to the quick of his nails, his shoes soaked through and his clothing had tears and holes, however, Alma didn't care, beyond the filth, he seemed friendly. For that, she was greatful. But his eyes, Alma noticed were that of a dark brown almost black, not knowing where his pupil ended and his iris began.

The boy, who was no better than that of a street urchin, was named Aaron.

* * *

"What were you trying to buy?" Aaron asked as they rounded a corner that looked familiar to Alma.

"I was trying to buy a tobacco pipe." She told him.

"Why were you tryin' to do that?" Aaron giggled, thinking it might have been for her.

"It wasn't for me…" she told him exasperated. "it was for my grandpapa."

"I see." After a few more minutes of walking he asked, "Any of 'ese houses look familiar?" indicating to houses, where if he were seen by the police, they would think he were stealing.

"Yeah, I think it's just over here." She told him as she walked over to one of the bigger houses. Not giving her a chance to do it herself, Aaron opened the gate for her.

"Thanks." She told him curtly, as she walked up toward the house accompanied by the young boy.

"Oh my dear heavens!" Alma's grandmother fussed as Alma walked through the door, Aaron stayed behind, taking everything in from the doorway. Alma's dress was drenched with mud at the hem and her hair had fallen flat with rain. She shivered slightly as she was held by her grandmother.

"We have a bunch of people out looking for you, we thought you ran away…" her grandmother cried, "we thought you wanted to go back to your parents…" finally she noticed the boy with ragged clothes and a thief's hand. Letting go of Alma, she tried handing the boy some money as a way of saying "Thank you", to which he only accepted after a few attempts of claiming not to want it.

* * *

Miss. Peregrine walked back home with flowers for Hugh's bees, being that she was no longer mad, she had other things to worry about like Carlisle for one, some vegetables, for a soup that she would be making when she got back, some new pens she knew Emma needed for her diary, a doll she had found at a market table she knew Enoch would love to have being as most all of his were getting scarier looking than usual, a receipt for the payment of the broken window and a bottle of a very expensive wine she'd only bring out when the children went to bed.


	8. Chapter 8: Horace's Dreams

As the entirety of the house sat at the table for dinner, Emma knew that something was wrong with her mother. She knew that something happened at the neighbor's house, but she knew better than to push the subject instead, she'd gather as much information as she could, and eventually, she'd demand to know what was wrong with Miss. P.

In fact, she'd bring it up with the older children as soon as dinner was over and the kitchen and dining room table were cleaned, if she had told all of Alma's children, then they ran the risk of Miss. P. knowing that something was definitely going on that she didn't know about.

After all, Miss. Peregrine always knew, she was the eye in the sky, quite literally when she was in bird form.

"So, what did Mr. Stewart say?" Emma asked, trying to pry for information.

Miss. Peregrine, not prepared for the question, choked on a sip of wine, the glass still in her hand, the rim just barely touching her lips. The wine came from a half-empty bottle in the cupboard. As she set the glass down, she turned her head and coughed into the back her hand, every set of eyes looked at her as her face became red as her wine and the veins in her neck almost as thick as her pinky.

When the coughing fit was over, Miss P. asked "I'm sorry?" as she cleared her throat. She noticed her children staring at her and they all quickly looked back to their own plates, listening intently about the conversation at hand.

"What did Mr. Stewart say? You know about the window?" Emma asked the question again.

Alma tried her best to not smile like she wanted to rip that horrible man's head off and sadistically enjoy every second doing it, she told Emma, "Oh, I told him that I'd pay for it and have Jake and Hugh replace it." Miss. Peregrine then looked to Hugh then at Jacob, who both slouched in their chairs by a few inches.

"Oh…" Emma replied nonchalantly, as she stuck put a piece of carrot onto her fork and in her mouth.

* * *

As Emma helped Jake put the dinner table away, making sure Miss. Peregrine was in a completely different room, she stood next to him as the two were putting the leftovers in Tupperware bowls. To an onlooker, it would have seemed like they were simply talking in hushed romantic whispers, they had to, knowing The Bird's hearing was heightened greatly, in fact, all of Miss. Peregrine's senses were heightened more than that of any Nonpeculiar, but even for an Ymbryne, they were something to behold.

Emma took advantage of the fact that whenever she and Jake wished to do anything: chastely kiss, hold each other's hand, whisper in each other's ear, Miss. Peregrine preferred to give them their privacy. In fact, Jake, Emma and Miss. Peregrine had an unspoken agreement to never do things like that in front of her or any of the children. However, she'd never stand for either of them sleeping in the same room nor would she have them out too long.

"Jake, something's wrong with The Bird." Emma whispered.

"What'd you mean?" he asked, clearly not picking up on what Emma had.

"I mean that something happened at the neighbor's today that clearly has Miss. Peregrine freaking out about it." She told him, stepping closer, pretending to nibble on his ear.

"Do…do you think it has something to do with the window?" Jake whispered.

"I don't think so…" Emma began.

"Emma, you're uh, kinda…" Jake told Emma blushing. Do to Emma being so close and her breath whispering in his ear it made him…

"Sorry, it's just I'm worried about her and I want to know but I don't want to get caught." Emma knew that by nature, Miss. Peregrine was a very private and protected woman, Alma had built barriers higher than mountains and for only a few brief seconds, in all of the time Emma knew Miss. Peregrine, she'd let the walls crumble only to build them as quickly as they fell.

"Get caught doing what, Emma?" Miss. Peregrine asked stepping into the kitchen about to make hot chocolate like she always had while watching Horace's dream sequences before sending the kids to bed. Miss. Peregrine noticed that there seemed to be less and less of those dreams and had been meaning to ask him about it.

Emma and Jake quickly separated, resulting in Miss. Peregrine giving them a quirked brow and nodding quietly.

 _I understand._

"Olive!" Miss. Peregrine called.

"Yes, Miss. P.?" she asked as she skipped into the kitchen.

"Would you mind helping me? I do believe it is your turn." Alma told her second to youngest charge as she bent down so that she was eye to eye with the little girl.

"Yay!"

It was custom for either one of the Twins, Olive, or Claire to help Miss. Peregrine make a delicious treat while they watched Horace's dreams. However, these treats were only given to those who had, either eaten all of their vegetables or their entire plate.

* * *

The family gathered in the living room and Enoch rolled a projector sheet down. They not only used this for watching movies and Horace's dreams but they also used this for teaching. Normally, Millard would give lessons about different sorts of things: from the Great Depression, to the French Revolution, to the discovery of "The New World". He tried to avoid any of the topics that some of them lived through because it would send someone into a bout of anxiety.

Millard would rather not open old wounds.

They gathered around on to separate couches with Olive on the floor sitting on a pillow, her lap weighted with books. Claire laying sprawled, propped by her arms as her feet swung in the air and Bronwyn leaned against the couch sitting on the floor. Jake and Emma sat next to each other on the smaller couch while Enoch, Hugh, and Millard took the other one. The twins each cuddled a bear that was split down the middle, each side belonging to either of the twins. Miss. Peregrine was the furthest toward the back leaning on a wooden pillar to support the rest of the house. They sipped their cocoa with marshmallows, the steam rising to their faces as they did so. They were clearly ready to begin.

Horace who had been upstairs in his bedroom to grab his monocle, walked back down, sat on the chair that was meant for him, which was directly in front of the projector sheet, took a sip of his chocolaty drink, and placed the monocle, that he remade to project on a wide scale on his eye.

The first dream they saw was one of him, he stood in front of a three sided mirror with plain, white, dress shirt buttoned half way down the middle revealing a black undershirt with a band logo on it and baggy blue jeans with black and white converse shoes. He nodded to himself with an approving look. This look was one of a more casual tone as opposed to what he used to dream of: standing in front of the same mirror wearing a top hat and coat with white gloves.

The next was of the Twins, they sat in their bedroom playing in a little fort they had built out of blankets and pillows. Between them was a light as they cast shadows of dogs barking and used their finger to look like a worm crawling on the wall. They used their hands to make trees and that swayed in the wind and to make shapes that looked like birds.

The third dream was loud. Thunder roared and lightning struck, Claire, who, in the dream sequence held her stuffed bear, whose name was Freddy, tight against her chest, woke Olive. Claire walked out of her shared bedroom with Olive following close behind. As the next wave of thunder rolled, they ran into Miss. Peregrine's bedroom where The Twins lay curled against a tired looking Miss. Peregrine, her hair not in a bun but rather in a fishtailed braid, seeking the same comfort as that of Olive and Claire.

The group sat together in Miss. Peregrine's bed and waited for the storm to pass. A few minutes later they were joined by Hugh and Millard, who shared the same room as well. Millard, jumped beneath the covers as lighting stuck nearby. Not a moment later, the ever growing group added two more people: Emma and Bronwyn. They cuddled beneath the blanket, normally, Miss. Peregrine would admonish this type of behavior but for now, she disregarded it.

Jake who, along with Horace, went looking for Emma knowing that she was absolutely terrified of rain storms found her in the bedroom cuddling her brothers, sisters and their mother. No longer with the heat of the fireplaces, the cold bit their toes and they climbed in, invited by the heat of the blankets.

Finally getting over his own ego, or knowing that it was going to happen anyway as he had seen it in Horace's dream, Enoch walked through the door, seeking the same comfort as everyone else, knowing that he'd find it in Miss. Peregrine. They sat holding one another as if it were a life line and if they were to let go, they'd be lost forever.

Miss. Peregrine told them a story of when she was younger, the children were always fascinated by these stories as they were only told so few. She reminisced about her mother and when storms like this happened she was always frightened as well. So, she'd climb out of her bed and ran to her mother as her father was always away. Alma told her children about how her mother used to sing to calm her.

Olive piped up, "Would you sing it for us Miss. P.?" she asked.

"Sweetie, I would, but I don't remember the words, it's been too long…" Alma told her child.

"Can you hum it?"

"Y…yes. I can try." Miss. P began to hum and soon, every single one of her children were asleep. Miss. Peregrine, looked at her children, all of which crowded her bed and all of which lay in the most awkward of positions. She looked at their sleeping faces and smiled, for she had felt in the pit of her stomach a ball that was of the purest happiness and the greatest joy. Individually, she looked at each one of her children and she let a tear stream down her cheek. For she was so overcome with what true love felt like that she didn't want it to end, yes she was tired, yes there was no more room left for her to sleep comfortably but if she had it her way, she would have created another Loop just to live in that moment forever.

Carefully as to not disturb anyone,she climbed out of the bed and walked out of her bedroom raided by _her_ sleeping children, getting a quick waft of the spare room, she reached the end of the hall. She opened the door and grabbed a few blankets, brought them back with her and covered the ones without any of hers.

Horace, knowing that was the end of the dream sequences, took the monocle from out of his eye and placed it in it's box when, unbeknownst the the household, it began to rain.

* * *

Hey, guess what? I don't know how to start off chapter 8 without breaking my dear reader's, your, perfect image of Miss. Peregrine. I have an idea but it might...you know what? You'll see, either tonight or definitely tomorrow morning, the problem is that I've got a bunch of stuff to do, and actually writing the story takes time.

I don't actually know if this fic is even any good, but it's got over a thousand views! To me, that is a bunch! I hope you all are liking it! Please leave a review!

-Your daily dose of romance


	9. Chapter 9: Just the Pleasantries

As Alma's charges slept in her bed, she crept into her bathroom and behind the door reached for her bathrobe. She tiptoed down the stairs like a stalker in the night, careful to avoid the creak in the hallway on the floor, muffled by the carpet, and the stair directly in the middle of the case being as that one creaked louder than the others. Alma counted the stairs as she descended: _12…11…10…9…8…7…_ she skipped one of them. _…5…4…3…2…1._ She took a left and, within a few steps, passed the threshold, groping the wall, she flipped on the main light switch to the kitchen and reached for a wine glass and the bottle she'd bought that day in one of the cupboards. She tore off the seal and reached in the silverware drawer for the corkscrew. After opening it, she flicked off the light with a twitch of her finger.

Walking to her study, she set the bottle and glass down and after a few unsuccessful attempts at staring a fire in the fire place, as it was a _real_ fireplace, she finally got it and sat on her arm chair that was a few feet back from it. She turned her head, looking at the bottle on the small table, the wine stood there without a single drop missing and the glass yet to be used.

Alma began to jiggle her leg and bite her bottom lip wanting to pour herself a drink but knowing the ramifications it could possibly have. Taking one last glance at the bottle she let out a shaky sigh and got up off of her chair. She walked over to one of the bookcases that surrounded the walls as she began chewing at her thumbnail. Grabbing one of the books,as to distract her, she turned it to a random page. She skimmed over the words reading absolutely nothing and retaining no information whatsoever.

She looked back at the bottle, it sat there silently taunting her, all Alma needed to do was pour.

Turning back to face the bookshelf, she saw an old photograph, one she thought she'd lost when her Loop in Cairnholm was destroyed along with her house and sent her on a journey. Never did she think, just for a second, that it wouldn't stop, even when she lived in a new house, new town, and, in fact, a new country.

 _…and a new neighbor…_

She took the old, black and white picture from off of the shelf. She stood next to her charges wearing a dress, and behind her a crescent moon. Her children stood behind it on stools and chairs. This was taken just after Abe, Jacob's grandfather, who was also a Peculiar, left. Like everyone else, he grew old and died. Miss. Peregrine preferred not to talk about such morbid topics as these but, nevertheless, they weren't far from her mind and she'd just push it away.

She set the picture back in it's place, and paced her study. She walked in front of the fire to provide herself with warmth and continued biting her nail. If circumstances were changed, Miss. Peregrine would tell one of her charges to stop biting their nails as it was a disgusting habit that was difficult to break and cosmetically, it ruined one's nails and teeth, to which her charge would stop immediately.

Alma sighed thinking of that kiss.

 _What are you doing, Alma?_ She asked herself as she placed her head in one of her hands and began rubbing her temples.

 _Why did Mr. Stewart have to make everything so difficult? Why did he have to go and complicate everything I've worked so hard to achieve? Why out of no where, when we haven't known each other more than a few months did he have to be such…such an ass?_

Even in her mind, when she was talking to no one but herself and those words weren't said, she completely disapproved of swearing.

 _I mean, yes…we've known each other since the move…but…_ she sighed again.

 _I could just tell him that it never happened, and go on with life as usual. Just the pleasantries, right? Okay…_ she agreed with herself.

"My charges broke his window, to which I offered to pay, he agreed, then I went to the market, there. See?" Alma told herself aloud.

"See what?" someone behind her asked. Alma turned around so quickly she almost slipped on a throw carpet. There in her chair behind the desk was someone who could only be a doppelganger smoking _her_ pipe. Alma blinked at the stranger a few times, only she wasn't exactly a stranger.

She wore Alma's clothing, not her nightgown but the clothes that Alma would most likely wear during the day. Underneath a black leather jacket was a plain white T-shirt, and jeans that were frilly with small rips and tears on her thighs complemented with black boots and red lipstick. Her feet were on the desk and the tobacco pipe clutched in her hand, nails painted black, resembling that of a falcon's talons. Her jet black hair was in a bun with a few loose strands hanging next to her ears. Her outfit was a bit too young and almost trashy looking to Alma, yes, she owned the clothes but would never wear that outfit.

"Wh…who are you?" Alma asked blinking her eyes harder and more than a few times.

"Are you talking to me?" the doppelganger asked taking the pipe from out of her mouth.

"You are the only one here…" Alma breathed, thinking she was having some sort of midlife crisis. Her head trying to wrap around what she was absolutely sure she was seeing.

"Yes, we are…" she told herself, placing the pipe back into her mouth and smiling a wicked smile. "Yes, _you_ are…" The doppelganger pushed herself out of the desk and got up off of the chair to stand in front of Alma. "You see, Miss. Alma LeFay Peregrine, I don't exist, but you do. You've managed to manifest your thinking and so I was born."

"So, you're just a figment of my imagination?" Alma asked. The two women stood right in front of each other, looking in one another's eye. "What are you to me? I mean an imaginary friend?" Alma asked smiling to herself knowing that little Claire had an imaginary friend named Stanley, he was welcome anytime so long as he went home before dark.

"I do believe that is to most correct term…" the Alma look alike told her.

"And what about me?" Another of Alma's figments said popping up from behind the chair the original Alma sat just a few minutes before. She wore clothes that her youngest charges would have imagined for Alma: a pink dress, that of a princess, and a tiara. Alma began to notice a pattern.

 _So, that means she,_ Alma looked at the one in the leather jacket, _she's the me that never listens to me. And she,_ Alma looked at the other in pink, _she's the one that Claire and Olive imagine I'd look like when I'm playing with them, well I must've imagined that at some point. She's my happiness and she's…well…the me when I have a sip of alcohol in the afternoon and when I play my music a bit too loud._

 _What the devil is happening to me? I'm going crazy…_

"No, we're not, we just couldn't think and well…this happened. After all, who knows better than Miss. Alma Peregrine?"

"Good point," Alma told herselves.

"Right…wait, does that make us selfish?" the Alma in pink asked.

"Well, if no one knows…" Alma, who still held the pipe, told herself.

The real Alma sighed exasperated to tired to deal with herself, losing her temper she yelled while trying to be as quiet as possible, "Wait, what the hell is going on?" Alma asked herselves.

"Language!" The Miss. P. in pink told her. The Almas rolled their eyes knowing that she was scolding herself. In another time and day Alma would have found this amusing but there was something weighing on her mind and very heavily.

"Miss. P.?" someone knocked on the door to her study crowded with too many Almas for Alma's liking, sometimes, Alma really didn't like herself, or in this case, herselves.

"Yes?" she spoke up. The intruder walked through the door, his eyes hazed with sleep. "Mr. O'Conner, what are you doing out of bed?" Miss. Peregrine asked the 'boy'.

"I heard noises so I went to check it," he told her, the back of his hand covering his yawn. "and I heard you talking. Who was that by the way?" he asked stealing a glance behind her for either a sneak in the night or a phone on the desk.

"Oh, I was talking to myself."

 _More like myselves…_

"Okay…?" Enoch wasn't sure how to continue, he wanted to get more information as Emma and Jake told him their concern for Miss. P. who noticed the look on his face but was more concerned with the tired in his eyes.

"I think it's time for bed Enoch." Miss Peregrine told him turning off the lamp and guiding him out of the study. They walked up the stairs together, Miss. P. leaving him at the second floor and Enoch continued to the attic as he preferred a room with not a lot of through traffic. Being as the rain seemed to subside, Enoch had no problem sleeping in his room, only when the thunder boomed louder than the bomb that destroyed their old Loop and lightning cracked like a whip, was he ever afraid to sleep in the dark attic that was his room, though, he'd never admit to it.

 _Time for bed…_ just before Miss. Peregrine walked to her room, she remembered that her charges had stolen her bed, so she walked into the spare room and after bumping a coffee table with her shin that was sure to leave a bruise was she intent to lay on the couch covered with a white sheet as to avoid dust. She grabbed the sheet, and placed it on one of the numerous chairs.

She lied down and purposefully forgot about that kiss.

 _Time for bed, Alma…_ Miss. Peregrine ordered as she let out a sigh and closed her eyes.


	10. Chapter 10: Peculiar Children

The train's whistle blew signaling the passengers to board.

In the distance a conductor yelled, "ALL ABOARD!"

Steam rose from the engines, and breath crystalized from the people surrounding the platform, their cheeks colored red and the cold nibbled at their noses. In the middle of the chaos, there stood a young man holding the hand of what looked to be his lady no older than fourteen. Her hair was black as a peregrine's feathers and she wore a dress that was made of silk with a woolen overcoat, spelling out to the onlookers that she was indeed a Lady. She received a lot of looks as she was the definition of beauty, the cold made her skin pale as new fallen snow contrasting that of her hair dark as midnight and her cheeks red as roses. Her hair rested in a bun on the top of her head and her corset gave her one of the smallest waists in France, meanwhile, the young man wore clothes that were covered in dirt at the knee and the hem of his pants, his overcoat was fashioned with a few holes and the sleeves were a bit too short. This man's face was bearded and his blonde hair was pressed somewhat sloppily against his head. His eyes were of a jolly demeanor and even though it was the middle of January, his hands weren't cold, as he held his lady's.

He brought her small, soft hands to his chapped lips and kissed them. She looked at him with a sort of longing and tears began to fill her ice blue eyes making them glossy.

"Y…you will write? Won't you?" she asked, the train exhaust filling her nose and sticking to her dress while her breath snuck out of her lips left slightly agape clouded between them.

"Every day…" he said simply, bringing her newly kissed hands to his cheek. She felt the rough against her skin and it almost tickled. He looked her in the eye, "Miss. Alma, please…if something were to happen…."

"Do not say that, please, do not say that…" she pleaded.

"Please," he interrupted her as he didn't have much time, "Alma listen, if something were to happen to me, remember me as I am. Right now, how I look, how I kiss you. My dear Alma, do that for me…"

"Take it back, say a prayer quickly, take it back." Alma knew that he was going to Mexico, France had invaded as to help put an end to the revolution.

"Say one for me…" he told her just before placing a kiss on her forehead. She stepped forward and hugged him rather strongly for her small frame. She didn't want to see him leave and was almost sure that she wasn't going to the train station, she was too angry with him. Then, she thought that if it were the last time that if she were to see him, she wanted him to know that he was loved, the only man she loved, the only man she promised to love.

She tilted her head, looking him in the eyes one last time, the eyes that were so kind, remaining the same ever since she was only a small child of six. He was in her dreams, her only wish, he was her hope and everything that should possibly need. He looked down at her, thinking of the times he'd spent with her, and she smiled as if reading those thoughts with him. He's looking at her and she's so beautiful, it was the perfect sendoff.

She looked at his lips and he looked back, she wished to live like that forever 'till time overtook the world and the lands became the oceans and the oceans dried. She wished to surpass that time, living forever even when her family and friends stopped breathing, turned cold and became nothing but a coffin of dust underneath the lands that would have disappeared.

She wished to stay that way until she met her family and friends, then one day, someone would come along and decide to remove their entwined bodies only to turn them to dust at the stoke of a hand. Alma had given everything to this man leaving her naked and still, her took her.

She hated him for leaving her. Their love was pain but she'd never cut it out even if she had the option. She didn't want him to walk away, she pleaded and begged until her knees hurt, but in the end, he did.

He kissed her on the mouth and turned away from her, boarding the train.

With that kiss, she told him all of the things that she hadn't before, she told him that she'd wait as long as she could, she told him thank you for being there and if he came back, she'd do the same for him. With that kiss she told him, _"I love you…"_

When she looked back, he became a ghost in the night, disappearing in the exhaust and morning fog, never would Aaron be seen again as he'd been killed during battle, another martyr to a cause that had already won, little did he know that this was to happen to him.

A few months later, Alma went with her brothers to live a home for _Peculiar Children_.


	11. Chapter 11: Everything Is Fine

Miss. Peregrine woke up sore and stiff from the couch's old cushions. Her neck hurt and felt the urge to pop it which she did. She sat up thinking about her dream of the train station, she let her head hang and sighed as she had done so many mornings before. Through the window, Miss. Peregrine felt the rising sun, making the spare room across from her bedroom uncomfortably hot as it did not have air-conditioning like the rest of the house.

She walked across the hall and into her bedroom and stood at the threshold, her charges still slept in her bed, as it was fairly large, all of the children, save for Enoch, slept beneath the covers their heads sharing pillows and sleeping shoulder to shoulder. She crept into the room and tucked Hugh's arm back into the blanket. Making sure that he wasn't awake, she slunk into the closet and picked out her clothing, purposeful to avoid what her illusions wore and nothing too flashy as she had to speak with Mr. Stewart later on that day.

She walked into the bathroom and changed, not taking a shower as she might wake one of her children. She walked out wearing the definition of casual: a blue plaid shirt unbuttoned showing a white tank top underneath, a pair of faded capris-jeans and red high top converse shoes. She kept her hair in the braid that it was last night knowing that if she let it out now that it wouldn't have the curls she wanted during the day.

She indulged herself in her cup of coffee while watching the morning news. The news anchor was balding and had, Alma noticed, a lovely, pregnant woman sitting next to him.

"Good morning this is the Today Show, I'm Matt Lauer…"

"And I'm Savanna Guthrie." The woman next to him smiled at the camera her face glowed and her white teeth shined.

Alma sat listening to them talk, later they were joined by two more people, at which point Alma realized that she'd finished her coffee and began to make the children breakfast, today, it was pancakes with either bacon or sausage and scrambled eggs as she listened to the television in the background.

She heard someone stirring around upstairs, thinking it was Claire as she was normally the first child to wake up in the morning, as it turned out, it was not. Miss. Peregrine sipped a newly brewed cup of coffee, completely black, as she didn't take cream or sugar. She turned around and was surprised to see two identical children, it was the twins, resulting in Miss. P. thinking of her late night. The twins stood in the kitchen and then sat at the island on the stools. Miss. Peregrine poured them a single cup of milk, mixed it with chocolate syrup and added straws to which they squawked in thanks.

"Your welcome, dears." Miss. Peregrine smiled her lovely smile as she turned back to the stove and sprinkled chocolate chips into a fluffy looking pancake that she flipped out of the frying pan and back in. Miss. P. was a fairly good cook, never burning the food and never was it undercooked, but her deserts, her deserts were by far the best.

Sometimes, she made delicacies like: crème brûlée, apple pie, sugar cookies and chocolate filled croissants.

Today, her pancakes were of different shapes some were stars, hearts, flowers, suns and plain circles as she intended to make smiley faces using whipped cream and fruits.

"When you two are done with your milk, go and wake the others." She told them, as the twins didn't really want to, they sipped their milk slowly and when they were fully awake, they scooted the chairs out and ran back upstairs.

A few minutes later, Emma walked downstairs and begun to set the table for breakfast.

"So, are you going back the the neighbor's today?" she tried to seem not at all interested, only making conversation.

"Yes, I need to tell Mr. Stewart that the window will be replaced at about 2'oclock this afternoon." Miss. P. told her, knots began to twist in her stomach.

"Mind if I come?"

"Actually, I need you to stay and help watch the children…"

"But, Miss. Peregrine, I don't like you going over there!" Emma interrupted, she knew that she was being rude and difficult but the truth was, she knew that something happened and she didn't want to see her mother hurt.

Miss. Peregrine turned around to face Emma as she had been cooking, making sure the eggs weren't burned and quirked an eyebrow, "And why is that Miss. Bloom?" she asked, giving the girl a look that could kill and completely ignoring the scolding that Emma should have received about being rude, little did Miss. P. know that Enoch and Jake were outside the door listening in.

"I just…I don't know." Now that the topic had come up, Emma wasn't ready for it, it was too early, Enoch took that as a queue to walk in and find that the kitchen's atmosphere was one of distrust as Miss. P. couldn't quite grasp what was happening to her charges as this wasn't the first time Emma asked about the man that lived next door.

Sometimes, during the day when Alma looked out of the window, or when she watched her charges play in the yard, she'd see different women walking out of his house looking like they had a massive hangover, their hair was a mess and they wore clothes that one would most likely wear when one had a late night.

"Miss. Peregrine? Emma? Everything okay?" Enoch asked, but knowing full well that the two were having something of a disagreement.

"Yeah, Enoch everything is _fine_." Emma told him as she walked out of the kitchen into the dining room, plates in hand. Miss. Peregrine sighed and turned back to her cooking, one of the pancakes burned.

 _Of all the times I needed to be at the top of my game…_ she thought angrily.


	12. Chapter 12: The Birds Calling

Breakfast was unusually quiet, already they knew that today was going to be something of a bad day. Emma was angry with Miss. Peregrine who was skeptical about her older children knowing that something was off, the older children were worried about Miss. Peregrine and the younger ones, sensing that something was wrong, sat silently. All around, the atmosphere of the table was almost frightening and without laughter.

The only noise that was made was the clanking of dishes and chewing of food. When breakfast was over and the table put away, individually, each person let out a sigh of relief. The children went to play and the others went to discuss what they'd found.

Enoch told Jake, Emma, Horace and Bronwyn about what Miss. Peregrine was doing last night and Horace told them about her night terrors but not going into too much detail, he might have been worried but that didn't mean that Miss. Peregrine couldn't have her privacy, or what little privacy she had left.

* * *

She stood next to the front door, her hand on the knob willing herself to turn it.

"Alma, dear, I'm going to miss you." Alma turned her head to look at her grandfather. She reached her arms out and hugged him tighter than Alma would ever dare for fear of breaking her fatherly figure as Alma's father had contracted an illness and died a few years before, leaving her mother to oversee certain things that normally, she wouldn't.

"I'm going to miss you too, Olly…" Alma called her grandfather by his nickname since Alma was a little girl who struggled to say his real name, Absalom. How she got Olly from Absalom, Alma never knew, she supposed it was one of those names that children make up in an effort to actually get one's attention.

Alma was leaving with an older looking woman with white hair whose name was Miss. Avocet, when Alma had first heard the name she asked if it was in any relation to the bird, to which the reply she received was a simple yes, clearly Miss. Avocet wanted to go into more detail, but that topic was for a different day. Alma looked her grandfather in the eyes, she had been told all of her life that she had his eyes, just as Alma's father before her and finally, Alma.

"Goodbye, my dear." He told Alma, as he smiled half-heartedly. He knew Miss. Avocet a long time ago, and she still looked the same then. He was her charge once upon a time and went with his sisters to live with her as it was, Alma was leaving with her brothers who'd be gone in a few days' time.

Olly held his granddaughter's hand in his and kissed her on the cheek, she inhaled his scent one last time: pipe tobacco, a hint of alcohol, and just the familiar scent that emanated from her grandfather.

"Goodbye…" she whispered and smiled as he let go of her hands, Miss. Avocet had told Alma that there was no need to bring her luggage as someone would fetch it when her bothers needed picking up. She was concerned by this and was told to simply walk out on to the yard were she'd receive her first lesson taught by her headmistress. This only further seemed to confuse Alma, who nonetheless was obedient.

Miss. Avocet walked in front of her and told her in little more than a whisper like a mother bird cooing over her chick, "Dear, look into my eyes…" Alma did as she was told, looking into the eyes that seemed different colors: green as the grass beneath them, blue as the sky above, clearer than the air, and black as the darkest cave. Alma became lost in them.

"Look into my eyes and remember these words: feel it…" Alma knew better than to interrupt even though she had no idea what was happening, she looked to her grandfather who stood in the doorway and only nodded, it seemed only a few days before that he received his first lesson in Peculiardom. "Feel the wind on your face, the light on your skin, the earth tilt and spin…hear the water falling, the birds calling and just let it in…" Alma let her senses feel and hear them, but she went beyond that: seeing the painting in her grandfather's study, she tasted the morning dew as she breathed in, and she smelled the sweet, musky smell of damp earth after a heavy rain and began wondering if this were truly what it was to be alive.

Alma felt the urge to jump. Then, she flew.

* * *

Miss. Peregrine twisted the door knob and walked out of the door, after having told Enoch and Bronwyn to watch the children as Jacob was studying and Emma refused to talk to her, much less listen to anything Miss. Peregrine had to say. She turned out onto the sidewalk and replaced the fence's door, locking it.

Turning toward Mr. Stewart's house she began her walk, feeling that it was more of a guilt trip and that her coming over to explain the window was an excuse for what she really was afraid of: her pride, she didn't want to apologize for slapping him but knew that she really had no choice.

 _Okay, my charges broke his window, I offered to pay, he agreed and that is it. Nothing else happened._

She walked onto the porch and rung the doorbell. When it opened, Mr. Stewart gave her a smile that made Alma blush, as to why she was blushing, she had no idea.

"Good morning, Mr. Stewart. I hope I'm not interrupting anything?" She asked.

"Oh, no..." he told her as he closed the door behind him and walked out on the porch to stand with her, quickly she stepped back for fear of what would happen of she didn't.

* * *

Hey guys! I hope that you all are liking the story so far! I know that there aren't very many chapters of Mr. Stewart, pointed out to me by a reviewer, I working on it but I'm not sure how to fit him more into the story unless I have him and Miss. P. go out on a date or something but her character doesn't really seem like the dating type.

If there's something I can change or if there's something that you want to see happen, LET ME KNOW! I'm just going on based on how I want it but that's not the point. I want to know if there's something you want to see happen and I'll try my best to incorporate it into the established plot.

I hope that you all like it, and please, leave a review.

As always,

-Your daily dose of romance


	13. Chapter 13: Remembrance of Things Past

"I just wanted to tell you that the window will be replaced at about 2o'clock this afternoon." She told him curtly, crossing her arms as if that would help close herself off, it did nothing. She was terrified of this man, he was intimidating. Not only was it his height, as he did stand about half a foot taller than Alma, but it was his demeanor.

His shoulders were broad and his hands were fairly large. The outer edges of his eyes were dark, but the iris was rimmed with a green hue, reminding Alma of the woods that were at the edge of the garden of her old house in Cairnholm. His skin was tanned and his hair was a thick tousled black with a few white streak, he could have passed for a beach boy had he not wore a suit often enough. In fact, Alma was surprised to find that he wasn't married as the specimen before her was the apex of a man. Not only was this man a looker but he was very smart, at least she assumed anyway, after all, this man was a published writer. He wore glasses that were black rimmed complimenting his cheeks and chiseled jaw.

He had a confidence that radiated from him and he had a perfectly toned ass.

 _OH STOP IT, ALMA!_

"Miss, I wanted to…" he began, clenching his jaw, he'd been going over in his head how to apologize but now that it was time, he had no idea how to continue.

"No!" she interrupted. "There is no need, I'm willing to put it behind us in hopes that it does happen again."

"But, Miss. Peregrine, I do feel the need to explain…" Miss. Peregrine quickly raised her hand telling him to be quiet. Her blinking increased and she swallowed, Alma was irritated and this only made her more so.

"Please, don't…"

"Yes, ma'am." He said smiling at her showing very straight teeth. He understood her not wishing to not discuss it further. "So…"

"Jacob and Hugh, will be by later to help with whatever they can." She told him. "And as for yesterday, nothing happened. Agreed?"

"Agreed…do you mind if I ask you something?" he said looking across the yard and into hers, her children were playing. Carlisle his arms resting on the hand rails that bordered the porch.

"That depends," she told him her brow quirking and was somewhat intrigued. "I do believe you already have."

"Sorry?" he asked getting confused with the conversation.

"You just asked if you can ask a question." She told him truthfully, a smile spreading on her lips brightening her face and making her very beautiful.

Carlisle backtracked and got the joke, he chuckled at Alma's wit. "Okay, do you mind if I ask you question after this one?"

"Of course, what is it?"

"How many children do you have? I've been wondering since you moved here."

"Let's see," she pretended to think, already knowing the number and began to list them off from the oldest to the youngest.

"How do you do it and manage to look amazing?" He asked pulling out a cigarette from his back pocket, to which he offered her one.

"No thanks, I prefer pipes." She continued, "Um, I've just been doing it for a while." She told him honestly, not ignoring that he'd complemented her but chose to not acknowledge it instead.

"What?" he asked completely dumbfounded.

"I smoke a pipe."

"Yeah? So did my grandfather."

"So did mine, in fact, before I left home, he gave it to me, originally I wanted to buy it for him as a birthday present but the store owner threw me out." She told him giggling.

"Why'd he throw you out?"

"I was only about six at the time."

"Really?" he asked in a full on fit of laughter.

"Yeah." She smiled and reminisced about her past, when she thought back she realized that was well over a hundred years ago. "Anyway, I'd better get going, I don't want to leave the children for too long. I'll send Jake and Hugh over at about one-thirty." She told him walking off the porch and onto the patio.

"That sounds good, hey before you leave, I want to give you something." He told her stubbing out his cigarette and quickly ran back into the house, Alma waited and a few moments later, Carlisle walked back out carrying something.

It was a book.

"I didn't write it but I thought that you might like it." She looked down at the bindings, they looked old and well used. The spine was creased and the bottom cracked. It wasn't held together with glue but with thick string. She read the title, _Remembrance of Things Past_.

"It's one of my favorite books and I think that you'll like it."

Looking into his eyes, she told him, "Mr. Stewart, I can't accept this." she said as she tried to hand it back to him.

"Please, call me Carlisle and yes you can, it's a gift, please. I really do think that you'll like it." As he pushed the book back into her hands, and placed his hand on her shoulder. This made Miss. Peregrine shutter and he quickly removed it. Alma knew that his touching her was simply an act of truce, a stalemate of sorts, she forgave him for kissing her and he forgave her for slapping him, but she couldn't help but think of Caul. Yes, she knew that he was more than likely dead and that if he was alive, he had no idea where she was but, she wasn't used to being touched only if it was for abuse.

"Okay." She simply told him in defeat. "Thank you, but I really must go." She turned around, book cradled in her arms, and begun to walk back home, all the while, unbeknownst to Alma, Carlisle watched with a faint smile on his face.

* * *

"Emma?" Miss. Peregrine asked knocking on her bedroom door. After breakfast she'd locked herself in her room as she always did when angry with Miss. P. "Emma?" she tried again, "Please open up, I've brought you lunch." She told her though the door. A few moments later she heard the door unlock from the other side and it opened. Miss. Peregrine stepped inside and placed the tray on Emma's desk that was currently filled with different types of drawings ranging from a single eye with photorealism, to full on portraits of different people: some were of Emma's brothers and sisters, a few were of Miss. Peregrine and others were of people that they'd seen in movies and on the television.

"What's wrong dear?" Miss. Peregrine asked while approaching Emma with caution.

"What's wrong with me?" Emma turned toward her headmistress. "Shouldn't I be asking you the same question?"

Miss. Peregrine's eyes went wide with a mixture of fear, astonishment and vexation.


	14. Chapter 14: I'm Leaving

"If you don't tell me right now then I am leaving." Emma threatened Miss. Peregrine bluntly.

"What are you talking about?" Miss. Peregrine inquired, trying not to blow up. She decided to play her best card: ignorance.

"We both know that you know what I mean." Emma told her, quickly losing what patience she had left. Miss. Peregrine turned around and for the briefest of moments, Emma thought that she was going to walk out of the room, instead, she closed the door, when the knob clicked, Miss. Peregrine turned back around.

"No, I do not know what you mean. Tell me." Miss. Peregrine told her, as she rested her hands onto her hips, a defensive posture.

"I mean, that something's going on with you that I know you rather not talk about, but Miss. Peregrine, we're worried about you."

"Come here," Miss. Peregrine indicated to the bed, they both sat: Emma sat one leg beneath her, her legs making the shape of a '4' and faced Miss. Peregrine whose leg crossed over the other and she asked, "who is 'we'?" clearly, Miss. Peregrine was oblivious to this new found information.

"All of us, I knew that something was wrong when you slammed the door in Mr. Stewart's face yesterday which was completely unlike you and when I asked you about the window, you panicked and shut me out. But I know that whatever it is, it goes deeper than that." Emma paused wondering if she should continue, "Horace told us about the night terrors, he said that he can hear you crying out at night and sometimes you wake up mumbling our names then you check on us. Why?" Emma laid all of her cards out on the table and was genuinely concerned for her mother.

Miss. Peregrine, who had been listening rather very intently, took a large sigh, clearly, she didn't want to talk about it and was hoping that she was putting on a good enough show that her children wouldn't notice, but as it turned out, it didn't work out that way.

"When F…" Miss. Peregrine licked her lips, "when Fiona died," she closed her eyes, the words tasting like acid after chewing on a razor blade, "I tried to do everything I could to be there when you all needed me. I just wanted to make sure that I was the motherly figure that you needed, the mother that you deserved…making sure that there were no monsters under the bed or in the closet for Olive and Claire, making sure you were all safe and protected, that when you cried and screamed in the middle of the night that I was there to tell you that your going to be just fine and that you're loved, and just being there when you needed me.

"It isn't easy and I know that I can be overbearing at times and that's why: I'm terrified to lose another child, mentally, I'm breaking, emotionally, I'm falling apart and I know that there are no more Wights or Hollows but I'm still afraid for your sakes. I'm trying so hard because I know that you only deserve the best, but sometimes I feel like my best is nowhere near good enough. I love you," Miss. Peregrine corrected herself, "I love you all, and I wish that there is more that I can do, I wish that there was more I could have done for Fiona and Victor, I think of what could have become of Fiona and Hugh, and I worry about Bronwyn, wondering if she blames me, I would, I would hate me. Every day, I think of Victor and Fiona, that they should be here instead of me, and every moment I wish that they were and that there was something else I could do, but I can't…and that that's what tears me up inside…I just…it's never enough." she let out a choked sob.

"Miss. Peregr…momma…" Emma grabbed a hold of her mother and hugged her, tears begun to stream down both of their faces, she held her mother wishing the pain and doubt away. Willing it to leave as Miss. Peregrine was the best mother to Emma, after all, Emma celebrated her birthday on the day she met Miss. Peregrine as that was the day that she met her true mother, biological or not, Alma LeFay Peregrine was Emma's mother and if anyone were to say any different, they can be damned.

"You are good enough, you're perfect, believe me. I know how hard you try and it shows. I know that you work so hard to make sure that we know that everything is going to be okay and that we know that we're loved without a doubt." Emma whispered in Miss. Peregrine's ear. "I know that you only want the best for us and I want you to know that your best is perfect, it's never lacking and it isn't too much. I love you, momma."

Miss. Peregrine let the words sink in, held Emma for a few moments longer and, finally, let her go, still holding her at an arm's length. She looked at Emma in the eye, there, in those eyes was nothing but truth and love, and Miss. Peregrine smiled a real smile. Her tears were no longer of sadness and of being shattered into a million pieces only to drop again and be ground into a fine dust, they were tears of happiness. She let the words sink and cried 'golden tears'.

"I love you, too." Alma told her as she wiped a tear off of Emma's face using the pad of her thumb. Emma gave Miss. Peregrine another hug, this one not lasting as long as the previous, as this was more one of reassurance. "I'm so glad I decided to skip wearing makeup today." Alma told her and they both began to laugh.

When the talking ended, they sat in a companionable silence. The weight in the room wasn't heavy like that of the kitchen only a few hours before breakfast. They talked about odds and ends, and what was for dinner, but the one thing that Miss. Peregrine avoided talking about was her trip to Mr. Stewart's.

Miss. Peregrine took her pocket watch out, she knew that it was dated and that most people wore watches on their wrists but never could she let go of the fondness that she had with her watch and it gave her a smug sense of self satisfaction, she didn't know why, but it did. She pried the watch open using her nail, digging it all the way to the quick as the watch had become difficult to open and looked at the time.

Miss. Peregrine forgot that she was to send Hugh and Jacob to the neighbor that she dared not speak of, for if she did, she ran the risk of adrenaline pumping in her veins, euphoria over exciting her and a sudden fear and dread characterized by 'butterflies in her stomach'. Miss. Peregrine wondered if Hugh felt the same when his bees flew around. She didn't know why she experienced this, but she thought it better than to overthink as she thought she'd have another breakdown and see more Almas. So, she pushed those thoughts from out of her brain and focused on her children.

"Oh, no…I forgot about Hugh and Jake." She told Emma as she got to her feet and begun to walk out of the bedroom. "And Emma dear?" Miss. Peregrine began as she turned around at the threshold, Emma looked up. "Thank you." She told her charge, a smile on either of their faces.

"Your welcome, Miss. P." she told her as Emma reached for her lunch tray. To which, Miss. Peregrine walked out and shut the door behind her as she bit her lip and went to find Hugh and Jacob.


	15. Chapter 15: Writing Ink

I've gotten a few requests for Miss. Peregrine showing more motherly moments and to have more of Mr. Stewart in the chapters, I hope I didn't disappoint with the last two: _Remembrance of Things Past,_ which by the way is a real book written by Marcel Proust, however, the name was changed to _In Search of Lost Time_ and the chapter _I'm Leaving_. I hope I'm doing the characters justice.

Let me know what you think by leaving a review!

-Your daily dose of romance

* * *

The room smelled of dusty books with the pages falling out, writing ink and a bit of old wine. She set the book down on her desk of her study, she read the cover: _Remembrance of Things Past_. Her index finger traced over the letters written in a large, old Victorian font. Before she flipped up the cover, she took a sip of the Earl Grey tea that she'd brought with her, like her coffee, she didn't add sugar or cream. Every afternoon, Miss. Peregrine made time for herself to reflect on past events be that though painting, reading, thinking or writing in her dairies she kept since she was ten years old, she didn't write every day as there would be far too much to write and she could never stay on top of it; even once or twice every week seemed a bit much.

Her very first diary was given to her by her grandmother as a birthday gift, she treasured the object as Alma lived for such a long time being that she was born in 1857, she could not mentally keep track of her own life's events, yes she remembered certain things, but chronologically, it was difficult. Her grandmother suggested that she write down things from her life as to not forget them for life's littlest moments should never be forgotten.

She learned to paint through her grandfather, as she found that the paintings he kept in his study were his workings and she wanted to learn, however, when Miss. Avocet went to retrieve her, she was still learning. Absentmindedly, Miss. Peregrine looked across her study to the painting that she had gotten from her grandfather: a peregrine falcon in a cage, it's wings flapping and a look of longing across it's features.

She set down her tea and read the first few lines: _For a long time I used to go to bed early. Sometimes, when I had put out my candle, my eyes would close so quickly that I had not even time to say "I'm going to sleep." And half an hour later the thought that it was time to go to sleep would awaken me; I would try to put away the book which, I imagined, was still in my hands, and to blow out the light; I had been thinking all the time, while I was asleep, of what I had just been reading, but my thoughts had run into a channel of their own, until I myself seemed actually to have become the subject of my book: a church, a quartet, the rivalry between François I and Charles V._

* * *

"Good night, dear." Alma's grandmother called to her after their nightly ritual of reading before bed.

"Good night, Mina." Alma told her grandmother, whose full name was actually Philomena. Like her grandmother before her, Alma was believed to be an Ymbryne and this was known through the family which was why they prided themselves with Alma. That was why she received a majority of the attention provided by her grandparents even more than Alma's mother who was not in any way Peculiar, however she carried the gene, and so much as Alma's family knew, her father's family knew nothing of Peculiardom. That was the reason that she lived with her mother's parents, as they had more experience in such delicate matters and knew how to contact Miss. Avocet when Alma's family was absolutely sure she was Peculiar. Her grandfather had the ability to turn into a peregrine falcon, which Alma's mother, her grandparents and her great aunt assumed that it was a gene that Alma, Caul and Myron carried as it skipped a generation.

In fact, when Alma was born a girl, they believed that when she matured that she would not only have the ability to transform in a falcon like her grandfather but also able to manipulate time, as every Ymbryne ever known was a female. However, this was never promised simply because Alma had been born a girl, her family didn't know whether she and her brothers were Peculiar at all as only time would tell.

At a very young age, she showed promising signs: she was smarter than her peers, and more advanced in a number of traits: her hearing and sight were far better than other children and adults. She picked up things easily and became very good at them within a matter of months and when she matured, she would in turn, move in with Miss. Avocet who could take her on as a student if she was indeed a Peculiar.

"Je t'aime ma chérie chérie." Her grandmother told her as she closed the door behind her.

"I love you too, Mina." Alma smiled, she lay in her bed on her side curled into a little ball: hers arms held a pillow to her chest and her legs curled into the fetal position. One of her hands were beneath the pillow attempting to make it fluffier but to no avail and the blankets were covering her entire self save for the top of her head because the blanket went to just the tip of her ear as she watched the firelight from the candle burn.

The smoke curled like a ghost only to disappear within. The flames danced before her and slowly she began drifting off, and soon she found herself cradled in the arm's of Morpheus.

* * *

"Are you sure that we're doing the right thing with Alma?" Philomena asked her husband as she walked into the kitchen. She found him sitting at a table eating a bowl of porridge. In a few day's time, Alma was going to meet Miss. Avocet for the first time and be taken to her Loop where she would be able to study in depth what it was to not only to be Peculiar but more importantly an Ymbyrne.

"I hope so...who knows more about being an Ymbryne than Miss. Avocet? Has she reached maturity?" he asked between bites of food.

"Yes, but...she's still so young, she's only thirteen." Philomena told Absalom.

"She'll be perfectly fine, after all, Miss. Avocet protected us when we were younger...and there's nothing more we can do for her. Soon, her instincts will take over and we will have no way to help her. It's for the best."

* * *

A few hours later, Alma lay in bed. Her breathing was soft and she stretched from the ball in which she was a few hours before.

 _CRACK!_

The lightning struck just outside her bedroom window and she shot straight up. She heard the stomping of rain falling on the house. It wasn't the rain that frightened this small girl with too big a bed, the pillows half the size of her, but it was the darkness. It was the feeling that she thought that her only source of light would be extinguished bringing the darkness to life.

She looked around for something, what that something was, she hadn't a clue but nevertheless the urge to look was strong so she did.

In a sudden burst of wind, the window crashed open cracking the glass and the hinges loosening, it would need to be replaced.

Alma panicked without her light, she screamed, however, the house was large and her noise was muffled by the bedroom door being closed and the rain crashing down on the house. She looked around at the shadows, everything looked different in the dark.

Simple things, everyday things: drapes, marionettes she no longer played with, porcelain dolls with painted faces of glass, the clothing that she set out for the next day on a fashion mannequin...they looked different. They seemed to breathe and move, they looked around and they stared, they stared at Alma, curled in her bed, tears rushing down her small face and they laughed.

She put her hands to her ears, trying to make it quiet but to no avail as her surroundings laughed louder and louder. Slowly, they began chanting her name in mockery.

"Stop it!" Alma screamed "Stop it! Please!" then her biggest fear made her hair stand on end and gave her gooseflesh. In the darkness, she saw something emerging from the shadows. Closer and closer it came, bigger and more monstrous. She closed her eyes in hopes that it would either make her death quick or leave her.

She was being shaken, thinking that it was the end of her. It enveloped her and much to Alma's surprise, it didn't kill her, it held her. When she gathered the courage to open her eyes, what she saw amazed her: a head full of blonde hair.

"Alma, it's okay…what wrong? I'm here, you're safe-your fine…" the hair told her as it rubbed soothing circles on her back.

"A…Aaron? Wh…" she tried, between choked sobs.

"I wanted to come and see you, I was calling for you outside but you didn't answer then I heard you screaming so I climbed up. What's the matter?" he asked, holding her as one hand was on the back of her arm and the other holding her head. She cuddled closer to his chest, wanting more comfort but unsure how to ask so she focused on his breathing and matched it with hers.

"The window broke and the candle blew out…" realizing she left out a large part of information, she continued, "I never did tell you that I'm terribly frightened of the dark, did I?" she wiped the fallen tears with the back of her hands.

"No, I don't think that you did." He told her, letting go of her arms. Leaving her for just a second to close the window and since the latch had broken, picked up a chest and placed in front of the window. As he walked back to Alma, he thought of the best way to get her mind off of the darkness. He laid her head down on her pillows and lay next to her, he propped his head and looked at her lost in the glowing eyes that pierced though the black.

There was always something behind those big blue beautiful eyes. What that something was, no one knew but the woman whose eyes they belonged, save for Aaron that is. They were not windows to her soul, nor were they showing her feeling, but her eyes, in fact, hid them. They cast shadows over what went on behind them. They did not tell him her thoughts, but rather told him the opposite.

Alma always wore a brave face and her eyes stayed true to that belief, but it was a facade, he knew that she was frightened.

 _One, two...three..._ he breathed.

He removed his head from his hand and cuddled her, she lay with her head and back pressed up against his chest and abdomen. Alma could tell that he was nervous with this new found contact, she found this odd, after all, it was no different than a rather long hug. After she calmed, slowly she drifted off, when Aaron knew she was asleep, gently he lifted his head and placed a kiss on her cheek.


	16. Chapter 16: September 3rd, 1940

It always makes my day and makes me super happy to see reviews, and thank you to HEEYO for the prompts, it does help to have them as I had no idea how I was going to get Mr. Stewart more into the story because, after all, he is one of the main characters. I'll keep in mind those ideas as I write the next few chapters. Now, on with the story.

-Your daily dose of romance

* * *

Emma paced her bedroom and thought of what Miss. Peregrine had told her in confidence. The two women of the household had a bond that to the rest of the inhabitants of Miss. Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children could not understand. They all knew that Miss. Peregrine did not, and would never pick favorites, but only if pressed would she confide in Emma. Emma knew this and used that fact to something of an advantage for her status, but sometimes, it also took its toll.

As it happened, if anything, it strained Emma's relationships with the others. When one wanted to know something in regards to the headmistress and attempt to sneak around her, they would come to Emma, to which the response would be a simple 'No.' after it would result in something of a fight. Only when she had to, would she be a fighter but when it came down to it, she looked to the others. She looked to her mother figure for strength, she looked to Jacob for help in such matters. She looked to Enoch to make sure that the children were safe, her own be damned.

If ever the children found themselves with out the company of Miss. Peregrine, Enoch was in charge as he was the oldest and with Jake, they were entrusted to keep the children out of danger and harm's way. Everyone knew where they stood in the hierarchy that was made up the house, Emma was a motherly figure as was Bronwyn. Millard was something of the troublemaker, Hugh was something of his accomplice and Horace pretended that he knew nothing of what was truly going on in everyone's daily lives. He didn't sneak or pry, he just knew. Olive and Claire, being the youngest, were the babies and the Twins were the odd balls out. Instead of playing a game that required large groups, they seemed to prefer to watch, no one knew why, but assumed that it had something to do with their Peculiarity, that it somehow made them unsociable, either that, or the Twins assumed that no one, other than Miss. Peregrine and themselves could understand what they were saying. To the rest of the household, they appeared borderline mischievous.

* * *

 _Noiselessly I opened the window and sat down on the foot of my bed; hardly daring to move in case they should hear me from below._ Miss. Peregrine looked up from the page of her book and to her pocket watch, the top flipped open as it sat on the desk, as she had kept a close watch on the time at all times. She didn't do this because her and her charges resided in a Time Loop and even a few seconds off would the world come crashing down, but rather out of habit.

 _5:43_

She got up from her chair and as she opened the door to her study and called the older children, "Emma, Jake, Bronwyn! Can you come to the kitchen?" she called out into the air, hopefully, they'd hear her. She didn't call Enoch because she knew that if he did help he'd more than likely be in a foul mood. Enoch always was a loner, even more so after Victor.

It was the calm day of September 3rd, 1940. It was quiet save for the birds chirping just outside of the windows, all of which were opened letting the cool air waft though the rooms, picking up the dust, and airing out the house. Miss. Peregrine never liked a stuffy house. She sat in the drawing room, smoking a tobacco pipe and listening in on the birds' conversation.

Alma knew that it was impolite but she reveled in the fact that she was nonetheless able. They sang songs of joy and happiness making her day feel even more bright than the sun ever could.

Then, she heard someone screaming her name, "Miss. Peregrine! Miss. Peregrine! Where are you?!" the unknown assailant yelled throwing the door of the kitchen open. Quickly, she set down her pipe and ran toward the commotion worried, as it was a trait she always carried when her children called, especially in a tone of that which she heard not a few moments before.

"What is it?" she asked in a hurried clamor as she almost tripped, her leg, which had a limp that was ever so slight, made running in a fright very difficult. Before she could ask, Abraham ran back out toward the beach, near the entrance to their loop, Miss. Peregrine trying and succeeding in running followed closely behind.

He led her to the edge of a hill, the wind blowing giving her gooseflesh and the waves crashing on the shore like thunder. It was quiet, too quiet. The birds stopped singing and the grass that reached to their knees clawed at their clothing.

"What is it!" she finally yelled, the adrenaline pumping though her veins making her head pound and her hands shake.

"There!" Abe pointed toward the beach.

"What?" she demanded, she couldn't see what he was seeing and that frightened her. Sweat began to gather, her heart and stomach clenching in trepidation. She didn't see it, she couldn't, that wasn't Miss. Peregrine's Peculiarity.


	17. Chapter 17: Let Me Be Brave

"It…it followed us, Miss. Peregrine! W…when we came back to the Loop, it followed!" Abe told his headmistress, trying to catch his breath.

"What is it?!" Alma lost her patience, she wasn't being told any answers and that scared her.

"A Hollow…" Abe whispered to her, having lost all expression in his face, turning pale as a ghost.

At those words, Miss. Peregrine felt her heart stop, her body began to tremble and her head became dizzy. She couldn't breathe, she couldn't think, she couldn't react. She didn't fear the ending of her own life, she only feared what would come after, who would protect _her children_? If she were to die, and if they lived though the oncoming conflict, then at the end of the twenty-four hours they were allotted within the Loop, it would collapse and her children would age beyond recognition.

She feared what would happen to her children, her babies? They would be decimated, killed off one by one, trying to defeat the evil monster of Caul's doing, had it not been for him then she would never have had to live her entire life in fear. It was because of him…everything was because of him. Her sleepless nights, her horrid dreams when she did sleep, the scars on her body due to his inflicting pain trying to see what it took to make her shatter, however, it wasn't all bad, after all, she had been able to meet her children who mended the broken pieces and for that, she was far more than grateful, they helped her and, in turn, she helped them.

Her children whose lives made hers worth living. She could not say she was fond of them as what she felt was more, she could not tell them she loved them as she believed it would be a breach in etiquette. She looked at them and found what she had been running from all her life, her family.

She was never pregnant with the charges she called her children, after all, they were simply under her care and she had not borne them but if she did, she doubted that even then, if they had been her biological children, that she could love them anymore than she did.

What is love? Love. It is like bathing in the heated glow of that of a higher intellect as it encompasses you and allows you to become part of it's everlasting glory. The things poets and philosophers dreamed of are true, she knew she had felt its undeniable presence. It pushed her beyond the boundaries that she had created and drove her to do things she never thought possible. Even though, Alma was only one person in a world of millions upon billions, felt as though she had conquered everything, from the never resting depths of the oceans that would bring her back, to the stars far beyond her reach. She felt the damp earth beneath her feet, the wind on her face, the house that she'd built above her head and these children at her side, she had everything and in her greed, left nothing for others.

Was it because either her or her children had no one else to turn and so turned to each other? Were they just afraid of what would happen if either would be gone to follow the wind or chase the sun, where ever it may lead? The bitterness of life is something that cannot be declared and so out of the nonexistent whispers, has created love. Alma knew not where the feelings of love drew their power, but she knew where it would lead.

She thought of the moments when she received each new charge, aged with time that stood still in her Loop. Emma was found trying to be sold, Enoch was in a graveyard attending a funeral as a bird chirped in the distance, an Ymbryne. Victor and Bronwyn were brought to her by Miss. Avocet, Olive was given to her only a few days old by a stranger in the night, after which, on occasion, left the Loop with Miss. Peregrine to age her, as much as Miss. Peregrine loved her little Olive, she could not keep up with the hours the young babe cried at night and stay awake to watch the older children. Horace was brought to her by a fellow Ymbryne who had given up all too quickly, Hugh was brought by his mother with whom Miss. Peregrine was acquainted after Hugh was found eating large amounts of honey and a honey comb, bees began flying out of his mouth, Fiona was found wandering in a forest not far from a Loop, Millard was abused resulting in the government taking custody of him, and was sent to live with his aunt and she begun to notice his Peculiarity as her brother carried the gene. Claire was a young child wandering the streets looking for her mother; Miss. Peregrine found her and after finding her Peculiarity, took her to the Ymbryne Council and asked to take the child. The Twins came to Miss. Peregrine on their own and Abraham was sent to live with her as there was a war going on in his own time period and after which fell in love with Miss. Peregrine's charge Emma.

Alma did not, under any circumstances give a second of thought to her death, but the reason she lived at all was to protect and love and provide for her charges. If ever there was a woman who put on a brave face and went into battle, thinking of her children, it was Miss. Peregrine. The only way that Hollow was going to get her children was if she was lying dead on the cold ground, sockets without eyes and going down in a blaze of glory were she would lay in defeat, hear the Hollow advance on the house filled with her children, and hear her children scream giving her one last "HOYAA!" she would muster the strength from somewhere of her depleted body and kill the damned thing, all without the use of her eyes. As she died, she would tell her children to be safe, be kind and be amazing.

Her last words would be, "I love you, _my children_." Etiquette be damned.

Miss. Peregrine could only guess where to look, as Hollows appeared invisible to any one without the Peculiarity to see things that no one else could. To the outside world, Abraham Portman would have seemed like he'd gone off of his nut, but to Peculiars he was a protector as Hollows were monsters that ate Peculiars, going for the eyes and killing them off, one of the reasons they resided in Time Loops.

She looked closer, squinting her hawk-like eyes to the beach, had she not the eyes of a Falcon, she could not have seen the sand being kicked up by something she couldn't see and a shadow being cast by something that wasn't there.

"Abraham Portman?" Miss. Peregrine called with all the authority her voice could muster, "You run inside, gather the children and leave. Promise me something…look after them all?" she asked, her voice breaking toward the end. She looked him dead in the eye and dared him to say no.

"Yes, Miss. Peregrine…" he said quietly.

She looked back to the shadow that was quickly advancing and stood her ground, she turned her head back to see if Abe had left.

He hadn't.

"Go! Now!" she turned her entire frame around and gave him a little shove, tears streaming down her face, her blue eyes betraying her, showing what they truly felt, fear. When he ran back, she looked toward the direction of the Hollow.

" _Whoever is out there, if there even is someone out there, give me the strength to protect my children. I don't know if you exist or if it's the biggest lie ever told, but please help me. I don't care whether I die today, I'm ready, but ju-just…please…protect them. They're so young and innocent, so small and fragile. Just keep them safe."_

She pleaded into the wind, her prayer rising above the earth. Miss. Peregrine didn't know whether or not there was such a thing as God but she also didn't know whether or not who ever she just prayed to, was real. She stood on mutual ground, not denying it but not willing to accept it outright.

She looked back at Abe running into the house, and heard him yell for the children.

"Let me be brave…" she whispered to the air around her, the grass no longer clawing at her dress but rather giving her a pat in confidence. The waves were no longer cracking but rather cheering her on as though she were a gladiator going into battle. The wind carried her prayer in hopes that someone, anyone would hear it. These things soothed her, her hands were no longer clammy and shaking, her head no longer hurt.

"Now, into battle…" she looked back one last time. It wasn't the perfect day, there were disagreements breaking out between Miss. Peregrine and Victor. It was simple. It was nothing that people would look back at and it think on happier times gone by and nights of terror, and Miss. Peregrine loved it. She didn't care that the day was not the best, she only thought of what it was, what it symbolized. It wasn't simply a day…it went deeper than Oceania, it went further than the stars. This was Alma telling her children how much she cared, how she would no longer be there in the physical sense but that she'd be with them always. Not only was she there for them, this meant that her children were there for her, then she realized how much she must love and trust Abraham Portman to give him something so close to her heart, and Alma cried.

"Good bye my children." She was ready.


	18. Chapter 18: Tarnished with Dirt

The invisible monster advanced on Miss. Peregrine, she was buying children time with her life.

 _This is what an Ymbryne is meant to do, protect her children, whatever the cost. If it must, so be it…_

She stood her ground, she was going to kill it even if she had no idea how to even begin.

"Miss. Peregrine!" she heard someone yell at the beach, quickly she turned her head to see the anonymous caller.

He wore a white button up shirt with a large red stain that seemed to be growing in enormity, sleeves rolled up just past his elbows. His pants were a deep brown and iron pressed but all articles of clothing were tarnished with dirt and mud. His hair blew in the wind that used to be pressed against his head using a hair cosmetic.

Miss. Peregrine knew this boy, she had something of a disagreement with him just yesterday evening, he wore the same clothes then only they weren't disgusting and there wasn't the crimson ever growing on his shirt.

He ran faster and faster barely tripping over the unsteady sand, his stride leaving footprints a few feet apart, he held his side. It was only assumed that this young man was in danger.

"Victor?! What are you doing?!" Miss. Peregrine yelled at the edge of the precipice, not thinking just for a second that her sudden outburst may have done more harm that good. The boy's only response was to continue running.

For the briefest of moments Alma was calm, knowing that she was more than likely to die at the hands of the Hollow, and in that, saving her children's life, after all, Miss. Peregrine did lead a full one. She grew up knowing that she was loved, and later, showed her children the same. But that moment that only happened a few seconds ago was a lifetime gone.

Then, Alma's world came crashing down on her; she knew what Victor, her baby boy, was going to do.


	19. Chapter 19: Motherly Affections

"Bronwyn Bruntley, where have you been?" Miss. Peregrine asked standing in the kitchen.

"Sorry, Miss. Peregrine." Bron told her headmistress curtly.

"It's alright dear, where are Jake and Emma?" Miss. P. inquired turning around into the pantry.

"I don't know ma'am. Should I look for them?"

"No, I do not think that would be necessary, they will come down. If they don't, I should turn absolutely monstrous." looking back at her charge, Miss. Peregrine tried, giving Bron a wicked grin.

"Yes, Miss. Peregrine." She simply replied, Bron was quiet but her emotions ran deep. If one simply looked in her eyes, one could tell that there was something driving her, what that something was, everyone in the household knew but never discussed. They worried about her but never would they converse behind closed doors about the 'strong' girl.

Miss. Peregrine supposed that she was strong, not simply in the physical sense, yes, easily lifting boulders and couches using only one hand was amazing, but that wasn't the only thing. Mentally and emotionally, she had to be able to lift tons…

The kitchen atmosphere was not one of hostility, nor one of distrust but simply a tad more awkward than anything. They did not speak of Victor as Miss. Peregrine would punish her charges if ever she heard his name in conversation for it would remind her of how for the first time that she ever let down either one or, in that case, all of her children.

"Would you mind shredding the brick of cheese in the refrigerator?" The headmistress asked grabbing the bag of macaroni. They were going to have a home-made macaroni casserole.

"Yes, Miss. Peregrine…" Bron opened the refrigerator and dug in the bottom drawer where it was always kept. "It's not in here."

"Are you sure?" Miss. P. sighed, knowing that if Miss. Bruntley was correct then the headmistress would have to make a quick run to the store and inevitably pass Mr. Stewart's house in the process.

"Yes, ma'am…" Bronwyn told her after a few moments and taking more than a second look.

"Alright, I'll be right back." The Bird told her charge walking out the kitchen door into the backyard intending to walk around the side of the house opposite of Mr. Stewart's side of the fence.

"Do you want me to boil the macaroni?" Bronwyn asked, she wasn't a suck up to Miss. Peregrine, but instead was unable to stand quietly in the same room with her for more than five minutes without the tension rising tenfold.

The dynamic between the two was rather odd, Miss. Peregrine was a motherly figure to Bronwyn and Bronwyn, having the natural motherly tendencies that she carried, seemed as though she was in something of a competition for motherly affection from the younger children. But never did they talk of deeper subjects like that of Emma and the Bird, Bron couldn't, that was not part of her character.

Miss. Peregrine cut Bronwyn deeply and that cut was still new despite the passage of time and no one knew better than the pair of women, they both knew this as fact but never would they be the same. It was their way of mourning they supposed. Maybe competing for the affections of the younger charges was Bronwyn's way of getting back at Miss. Peregrine but Bron was never the vengeful type.

"No, dear. I'll only be a few minutes." The Bird told her taking a blinking step into the sun and begun her journey.

* * *

Before Victor slipped into oblivion, he felt the warm comfort of his mother. She smelled of sweet talcum, powder, and a musk of womanly figure hood. In short, a scent that her charges identified with Miss. Peregrine. Her skin was soft and did not give away her true age, it hid time. Her hair was not in the tight up do that it was normally found, nor was it in a braid as it always was when she slept but her long black locks flowed in the wind and tangled here and there down between her should blades.

Her eyes, normally showing confidence betrayed her as she was terrified, she feared for her boy.

"Miss…please. Don't cry…" Victor whispered in broken words. "You don't look nearly as beautiful when you cry." He lifted his hand with all the strength his body could muster and held her face in his cold hand slowly going pale.

"What can I do?" she asked. For a moment, Alma became the little girl who was unsure of herself.

"Smile for me…and do one thing, promise me?" he didn't wait for an answer. "Don't cry for me, it always makes me upset to see you cry." Miss. Peregrine did as he asked, she smiled, however fake it was, it didn't matter to Victor in the slightest.

They both pretended to be happy.

"My beautiful child, my beautiful boy…I suppose that you were not really meant for this world…" she told him putting her forehead to his. "We must say good-bye now…"

"I know, thank you momma…" his words broke though gasps for breath. His eyes seemed to fade and see something that never was there, objects on the clouds: faces of large scale and images of things that he imagined, he stared at clouds of white fluff blowing in the breeze, then back to Miss. Peregrine. He smiled, "Do you see them? It's beautiful…everything. I…I lo…I lo…" he tried, liquid crimson sputtering out from his mouth. His head lolled to one side and his eyes became lifeless.

"Victor! Victor come back to me! COME BACK!" she held him tighter willing him back to life. "Don't you dare take my son…don't you dare!" Alma whispered to the air around her, the broken body in her arms. Her little boy. As she held him, she whispered, "Please, don't go...I want you to stay!" then Alma's ducts broke into a waterfall of tears. She held her boy.

Alma broke her promise, not only did she promise not to cry, but she promised to protect him and she didn't. She let her boy slip the the cracks of her fingers and it resulted in his death. But it was more…it was so much more.

* * *

Hello to my dear readers, or if anyone is still reading this! I thought that I should expand on Miss. Peregrine's past for a few chapters and try and explain the ghosts that still haunt her after all this time and how badly damaged she became after such a traumatic event. For those of you wondering, Mr. Stewart will be in the next few chapters and he might just meet a few of Miss. Peregrine's charges, I don't know yet, you'll just have to wait and read!

By the way, sorry for not updating in the longest time in forever, I've been really busy with after-school activities that take up a huge chunk of my time which kind of explains why the last chapter was so short, I'll try and be more consistent about it.

Leave a review, they give me motivation to write more if I know that actual people are reading this!

As always,

-Your daily dose of romance


	20. Chapter 20: Topic of Discussion

After dinner, the group that consisted of different biological families but were chosen brothers and sisters sat in the living room watching Horace's dreams once again, however, contrary to normality, Horace did not dream of clothing. He was not standing in front of his three-sided mirror staring at his reflection with satisfaction, instead it was an image of a small boy. This served to increase the curiosity, yes, Horace's dreams were something that always sparked interest in Miss. Peregrine's home, it was always a topic of discussion but only ever so often did they see people they did not know. The child could have been anyone, and timing was off, it looked to be the past but in the dreams it was always the present or the possible future. Sometimes Horace's dreams varied dependent on what the person he dreamt about thought and how they acted in certain situations.

The child sat on the floor at the foot of a shelf with papers askew once white no longer. The rusted metal looked old and burned and the shelf looked to be in a room that was suffering from mold and mildew that grew out of the books soaked with water that dripped off of the ceiling through the cracks. He was alone save for a bird that sat atop the very last level of shelving. Whether that bird was in Ymbryne, they could not tell and they couldn't tell if the child was Peculiar as he showed no physical sign.

The bird screeched and began to flap its wings sending the papers around with the artificial wind and the shelf began to wobble. Gooseflesh appeared out onto his skin as the cloths that he found himself in were torn and soaking though.

Everyone watching the sequence inhaled a breath, they sat up at the edge of their seats and looked closer at the projection.

When the bird lifted in flight, the shelf toppled over onto the poor child. The onlookers gasped and the youngest let out a cry in disbelief.

As Horace knew that he did not sleep for the rest of the night, he took the monocle from his eye and placed it back into the box.

"Okay, children, time for bed." After stumbling a few moments, Miss. Peregrine found her words and spoke up as she flipped on the light switch. After a sigh in frustration coming from the younger children, as the did not want to go to bed claiming that they weren't tired, began walking up the stairs in defeat. They knew of Miss. Peregrine's ability to veto any and all requests put to her if the group came together as a whole. They weren't fond of such acts but nevertheless agreed after a few threats of punishment.

"Mr. Somnusson, would you wait a while?" she asked like a principal asking to speak to a student who wasn't sure whether or not they had done something of note be it positive or negative.

"Yes, ma'am." He answered bringing his half-empty mug of chocolate to the kitchen sink.

 _Humph, it's half-empty…_ he thought as the tap gushed water.

After he rinsed it out he turned back and asked, "Yes? What is it?" his posh English accent thick with worry, he put his hands behind his back, a posture that he was unlikely to give up after having done so for so long.

"Would you mind coming with me?" she asked not waiting for a response, she was out of the kitchen walkway and she led him to her study, the fire cracking in a blazing bush curtesy of Emma. "I've been meaning to ask," Miss. Peregrine began, she was no longer "the Bird" or "Ma'am" or "Headmistress" all of her barriers had been taken down, colliding with one another. She was simply a woman worried about the wellbeing of the boy but her demeanor seemed detached in some way either emotional or otherwise. "I've noticed your dreams are beginning to lessen in number or are either of a noteworthy significance to the home as a whole, is there anything you wish to tell me?"

"Uh, well," he tried. "the thing is, well, you and I both know that sleeping is difficult and that it always will be for me as it is for you."

"Whatever do you mean dear?" Miss. Peregrine tried the same trick with Emma only a few hours before.

"We both know what I mean." Horace told her calling her out on her bluff and looking her in the eye. His posture stood straighter than ever before, he was traveling into uncharted territory and was unsure whether he should continue. Horace wasn't the child filled with the most courage and wasn't the most confident, the only thing he didn't lack was eloquence, all other traits he failed, save for fashion of course.

Miss. Peregrine grew red in the face; she had been caught red handed twice. She needed to be at the very tip-top of her game and she was failing miserably. Everything was crashing down around her, mentally, she found herself in their old home in Whales. She sat in the darkest corner she could find unmoving like a boulder. As she looked around, the wallpaper had peeled, the floor had large holes and cracks so wide she could have slipped through. She held herself in a fetal position and rocked herself back and fourth when suddenly the world around her began to shake…

"Miss?" Horace asked sounding worried. He placed a hand on her shoulder, and after a minute or two, Miss. Peregrine was back she noticed the shaking was of her own doing. She felt something warm sliding down her cheek and when it reached her lip it tasted like saltwater, Miss. Peregrine was crying.

"Perhaps we should sit?" Everything Horace said came out as a question as he had no idea how to continue, Emma would have been better in such matters but perhaps it was his time to step up and be the shoulder his mother needed. He led her to a couch that sat near the wall furthest from the fireplace and thankfully quite away from the door, if need be, they could talk in hushed tones and would be unheard as the door had been shut.

"What is it?"

Miss. Peregrine snuffled, "Well, it's a number of things…" she had let Horace in but not fully as she always treated her children with a detached fondness, they all knew that she loved them but would scarcely ever say it aloud. "first, it's that damned man that lives just up the street." She told her tale of the drink, the kiss, and the thoughts she had about it all the while the boy listened without interruption. She continued about how she felt that the world was falling around her due to her feeling like she was no where near good enough for anything and that she had lost what little sanity she had left if she ever was sane. She told him these things in confidence and expected him to deliver.

Horace explained why his dreams were few, he tossed and turned in the middle of the night woken by the creaks of the house signaling someone was stirring about and that his dreams became more and more erratic as if something was blocking him from prophesizing the coming days events, what that something was neither of them knew. Perhaps a storm was coming and was going to wreak havoc on the extraordinary lives each household member led. But sometimes, it seemed like the storm had arrived and was just beginning.

When the hour grew late, she became tired and her confidant tried and unsuccessfully stifled a few yawns, they sent each other to bed. They walked up the stairs and parted their separate ways. "Good night, Miss. P." Horace told her as he shut his bedroom door.

"Good night my little one." Alma spoke in barely a whisper a smile spreading across her face. She was terrified as all hell and since it took a lot to scare her, it only served to scare her more.

 _Tomorrow is another day._ She thought as she got ready for bed but not before stealing a few drags from her pipe.


	21. Chapter 21: A White Wedding

Claire, although being the small child she was when found by Miss. Peregrine, still retained bits of memories of her mother, all of the children did be it memories or physical capsules that have stood the test of time. They remembered their parents but would do so scarcely as they preferred to not think of such things. Miss. Peregrine was both their mother and father as they had none, she stepped in when no one else would. However, from what little Claire remembered and had on her person along with a small luggage, Claire's biological mother had dark brown hair and Claire only knew her father from a picture that she had somehow acquired. Her father stood with a girl younger than Emma with black hair and a dress to match whom she did not know; her father was blonde. Her parents met during the Mexican Revolution when her father was going away and subsequently died a few weeks after. She hid this picture from Miss. Peregrine as Claire thought it would make the headmistress angry.

Sometimes, she imagined that Miss. Peregrine had a husband and that Claire had a father. Miss. Peregrine would have a white wedding in a church with lots of people with Emma and Bron as the people who wore similar dresses and helped Miss. P. get ready for her big day, she didn't know what they were called so she named them 'slaves to the Bird'. Claire and Olive would be flower girls and the Twins would carry the bottom of Miss. P.'s fluffy white dress as she walked down the aisle. The boys would be Mr. P.'s slaves only they wouldn't look nearly as pretty as Emma and Bronwyn.

The Bird and Claire's new father would kiss and the little girl would blush a bright red and her momma would turn to the people who were clapping with a large smile across her face. Claire simply was in love with Miss. P.'s smile but this would be even more beautiful than she had ever seen. Then her family would be happy, not that they weren't, but even more so.

In time, Miss. P. would call the children into the living room, Mr. P be her side, and would announce that she was going to have a baby making Claire a big sissy for the first time.

This served to make the youngest charge in the home happy as she was lost in dreams and she drifted off in her bed, a warm feeling in her heart and wishing that Miss. P. would meet someone who the rest of the house adored but Claire by far the most.

* * *

He bent over the desk. The table lamp's light flickered within the blink of an eye. He took the vile that sat beside the page in which he wrote. He kept a journal since his life was an interesting one, he planned to make it into a book. Using his thumb, the vile opened with a "pop" disturbing his thoughts, the liquid wafted though the air, sending sparkles of pink and red into the atmosphere. The smell was of decomposing bodies, perfumed with alcohol and acid.

He poured the vile into his face.

He felt a sudden surge of adrenaline shoot though his body beginning from his head traveling down to his chest making his heart beat out of his breastplate and down to his legs that bounced in anticipation. His hands trembled and his toes curled as light shot from out of his eyes dulling as he blinked. He sighed a breath of sweet release the corner of his lips curling into a nasty grin.

He enjoyed it.

Once the liquid was depleted he stood and smashed the vile to his desk. His fingers bled but he could care less, this was the fix that he needed. He walked into the bathroom and looked into mirror. What he saw he hated but knew it had to be done, it was the only way.

His face was suffering from angry burns and his hair was synged off. It only took him a moment to turn back into the man that he was only a few hours before, concentrating he repeated these words in his head: _Feel it, feel the wind on your face, the light on your skin, the earth tilt and spin…hear the water falling, the birds calling and just let it in…_

His hair became fuller and more vibrant, his facial hair was no longer patchy but was cleanly shaven, and his eyes were a piercing white as the light was now completely gone. He put on the clothes that he picked out earlier in the day. He tucked in the button-up and and threaded his belt into the loops of his jeans. When he walked out he looked like a new man, his hair was slicked with gel and his shoulders, after his ordeal with the liquid, became more broad and became larger as his muscle peaked though the shirt.

He's shape shift was a success.

 _Might as well enjoy the local cuisine…_ he thought as he walked out of his apartment building into the inner city, little did he know that just a few miles away in a neighborhood, laying in her bed was the woman he'd been looking for.


	22. Chapter 22: Something We've Never Done

As planned, Jake lied awake in bed looking out of the darkened window the stars strung across the night dangling in very few numbers as the street light dimmed them. Turning his gaze to the clock on his nightstand it read: _2:42_ The first '2' obscured by the glass of water that sat just in front of the clock's digital numbers.

 _Close enough…_

He climbed out of bed wearing the clothes that he had been in during the day, he grabbed a pair of shoes and snuck out of his room trying not to make a noise. However, the fruits of his labor went to no avail as the door creaked causing Millard to stir in the bed opposite Jake's own. Jake scrunched his face in terror praying that the invisible boy didn't wake. After a few moments of listening in the darkness, a disembodied soft snore came from the direction of Millard's bed as Jake heard him shift his sleeping position. Again he tried opening the door but only on the third attempt at not making a peep was he successful.

Taking note that Miss. Peregrine's sanctuary door was closed, he crept down the stairs avoiding the one in the middle as he had done so many times before. When he was sure no one was awake, from the darkness there came the wave of a whisper.

"Jake?" Had he not recognized the voice he would have been utterly screwed.

"Emma? Where are you?" He asked. The familiar flicker of something along the lines of a candle sparked and instantly a shadow appeared on the wall casting a mold of Jake. He turned and saw that Emma was wearing: a white tank-top and a blue mini-skirt that complemented the color of her blazing red hair paired with sandals she held in her hand.

As Jake had been wearing a t-shirt and brown shorts that day, he found no reason to change.

He walked up to her careful to avoid anything that may have been left on the floor which was unlikely but he nevertheless took the precaution. He twirled her loose curl in his fingers and asked, "Ready?" to which his response was a kiss and a nod.

They walked into the kitchen and out the back door only putting on their shoes when they were physically off of the house and standing on the grass as they thought the clanking would wake one of the house's occupants. Emma took Jake's hand in hers and away they walked toward the front of the house, jumping the fence onto the sidewalk. After a few paces they came to an intersection and crossed the road toward the right. They waited for a few minutes for Jake's 'closest friend', Ricky. While they did so, they kissed deeply and with either's hands roaming freely as they were very unlikely to be caught by anyone of significance.

Ricky drove by in his car that was, simply put-a piece of junk. There was duct-tape on the seats to stop the holes that were already half a foot wide and growing from growing anymore. The windshield had a crack that was a simple line running from either end of the window starting from the top and going down diagonally. The air conditioning was useless so Ricky opted to just leave the windows open, there were unmentionables that hid themselves under the seats and in the only compartment on the passenger's side.

"So, this is the girl, huh?" Ricky asked taking a long look at Emma.

"Yeah, Emma, this is Ricky…" when Emma had no idea what he was going on about, Jake helped her, "they guy that I was telling you about?"

"Oh, yes. Hello." She said after her memory had come back, not wanting to be too friendly but not wanting to come across as shabby.

Ricky took notice of her accent and smiled a toothy grin, "Jake you never told me she was a looker." He said as he removed his sunglasses to inspect her better. Emma's face grew pink, not with hostility or a blush but because she wasn't expecting such a comment. She shifted awkwardly and looked down at what she was wearing wishing that she hadn't chosen something that showed so much skin.

"Ricky…" Jake tested, he wasn't having any of it.

"Alright, I'm sorry," he said sincerely, "but just two questions Emma, what do you see in this guy and do you have any sisters?" He joked trying to lighten the mood and just barely succeeding.

* * *

When they reached their destination after Jake and Ricky had caught up and how he'd met Emma only telling Ricky that after Abe's death, Jake went to Whales and met her on the island. They left out the details of being nearly killed several times and that the children they lived with were kidnapped as well as the headmistress. As Emma and Jake planned the night out, they decided to keep out those few bits as they thought that they'd both be sent to a mental institute if they even mentioned even half of the things that led them from Emma pointing a knife at Jake to kissing and cuddling.

They got out of the car and went down to the beach were there was a fire blazing and music playing with dozens of teens that looked to be the same age as Jake, if they were the same as Emma they would have likely been in an old folk's home.

Using this second chance at being young, Emma slipped off her shoes and took a drink from one of the coolers, since Jake never was all that popular, he tended to stay further away from the larger groups.

The partygoers laughed, drank and took drags from each other's cigarettes. Some roasted marshmallows and hotdogs, others went for a moonlight swim. Couples kissed and smaller groups sat in circles passing around either bottles or pipes or bongs.

"Emma, if you don't want…" Jake began. Emma stopped him by crashing his lips to hers and opened him a drink. She handed it to him and grabbed her own.

"To having time…" Emma toasted as she clanked the neck of her own bottle to his.

"To doing something we've never done." Jake said, adding to what Emma had to say.

"To being young." Ricky cut in, after which they raised their bottles to eye level height and brought it down stealing a few gulps of the beer they held in their hands.

* * *

When the couple finally went home a few hours later, they staggered toward the back of the house and opened the kitchen door. Emma had lost one of her shoes and decided to just toss the other in to the garbage bin on the curb.

Jake walked though the door after Emma, "Like…a nice…gentlelental man." He stuttered as he held the door for her, she responded by kissing him, forcing her tongue into his mouth. She led him by the hand toward the center of the cooking area and the screen door, that shut using a spring, slammed closed rattling the house.

They pulled away from the kiss startled and looked at each other like death itself had just spoken. For a few seconds they were quiet and pale faced when out of no where they began to laugh hysterically at the stupidity of the situation. They laughed mainly because they were too scared of what would happen if Miss. Peregrine waltzed down with a bat in hand thinking it was a robber only to find the people she owed her life to drunk as a skunk and high as a kite.

They laughed because it wasn't funny and if they didn't then they'd come down from their high. They laughed because either person was laughing. They laughed because they were surprised by what they'd just done, they, two teenagers, physically anyways, who were madly in love, went to a party and had the time of their lives. They laughed at what Miss. Peregrine might have said if she found them in such a state, "This is not funny…" as she wore her scariest 'death glare'. Mainly they laughed because they were nervous.

There was the possibility that Miss. P. would come down or anyone else but really, they laughed because they were afraid of each other.

They looked each other in the eye and the mood became serious and tensions rose astronomically to which they immediately stopped. Knowing that it was bound to happen eventually, they kissed harder and with more passion than ever before. Jake tangled his hands in Emma's hair that smelled of smoke, whether because it was from the party or if it was perk of her Peculiarity, he didn't know but he loved the smell.

Emma found herself walking backward and bumped into the island. Snaking her arms around his neck to pull him closer he lifted her into the table…


	23. Chapter 23: Never Again

Miss. Peregrine dreamt of laughter. No one was laughing at her in mockery for something she'd done, instead, this laughter was one of genuine glee and she joined in. She knew not of what she was doing or where she was for that matter but dreams have a funny way of doing that to a person. She looked around and what she saw astonished her, the person before her was the cause of her current state.

He sat before her, as they were encompassed in a grey-white smoke, the thicker it got the darker it became.

Suddenly, the boy that she was familiar with but did not know walked up along side the man. The boy's clothes were soaking and torn, he had holes in the tips of his shoes as he seemed to have outgrown them for some time. His hair was matted and oily with tangles despite how short it was. It bunched here and there and Miss. Peregrine suspected that he had lice.

With his face covered in dirt, he looked up to her as he was only about shoulder height, with his pleading eyes, he told her, "Please, help me…" then his lips rapidly began to move but no sound was made.

* * *

A few minutes later when they knew that the party was over, Jacob and Emma had gone their separate ways. They stole a few more kisses and skipped the middle step on the stairwell. They went back to bed, Jacob taking one end of the hall and Emma the other. They snuck into their rooms, their mates stirring in the process.

Miss. Peregrine woke and sat up in bed. She looked at the clock and it was half-past five. She decided to start her morning with a shower. She answered nature's call, ran the water and stripped out of her nightgown that wasn't soaked with sweat for once. Finally, she was able to get a full night's rest despite going to bed at the late hour she had.

Little did Miss. Peregrine know that just a few doors down the hall, Emma was just getting into bed and Jake was once again looking at the digital clock on his nightstand.

As she stood in the shower, she did not think of horrible thoughts as she had come to do so many mornings before regardless of the dreams. Instead, she thought of happier things, she looked forward to spending time with the children that were under her guardianship. They had a few classes that morning and after that Miss. Peregrine thought to keep a promise she'd made to the children a few days earlier. If they wished, they would be going to the beach.

When she was finished she picked out a dress that was a dark red with bits of black. She received it from Mrs. Portman, Jacob's mother, as a gift. It was a casual dress with a hem that went down to her knees and sleeves that sat just shy of her elbows. She opted to keep her hair down as it had grown significantly since Cairnholm.

 _New life, new me…_

She whispered her words as she got dressed. Yes, she had a thing for black as it was always slimming on her and it was a custom that when a loved one died, one wears black but she believed that Fiona and Victor and everyone she'd known from her past life would want her to strive. She liked to believe that they would have wanted her to move on, never forget them, but never let their death oppress the life that they knew could be a happy one.

She walked down the stairs and into the kitchen to pour herself a cup of coffee, sometimes she drank tea but as they were out, she had no choice.

 _Wow, I really need to go to the store. I think I'll ask Jake to bring me with the car._

Miss. Peregrine never had a license because she never needed one, now she thought that having one might be a good idea. When her beverage was finished brewing, she went into the living area and turned on the television.

* * *

She called down the children, save for Horace as she thought that he would need a few more minutes of rest, for breakfast and when they began to set the table she took note that the couple of the house was missing.

"Millard, where is Jacob?" she asked as he carried the plates to the dining area.

"I do believe that he is still sleeping, Ma'am." He answered, knowing that if one slept in it annoyed the Bird. Suspecting the worst, she walked up the stairs careful to not storm.

When she reached Jacob's door, she wasn't quiet about it. Jake stirred in his bed, the world around him still spinning quicker than normal. The taste in his mouth was terrible and made him feel as though he'd eaten sand.

"Jake, it's time for breakfast…" she tried sitting next to him on the bed as he still tried to retain sleep. "Jake, come now, you need to wake up." Yes, she was annoyed but never would she take her feelings out on her charges, never again…


	24. Chapter 24: I Loved Him

"We're all hurting! Whether or not you know that you have a responsibility to this house!" Enoch yelled from the landing on the stairs.

"That is enough, Enoch…" she told him. Her words sending a chill down her own back at how cruel they were.

"No! You didn't do anything! You did nothing! You stood there and did nothing! You watched and nothing. You stood there and watched him die!" He screamed back, tears gushing down his face, bouncing off his cheeks and nose. As he stomped down the stairs the old house rattled and for a moment, not even a second, her Enoch had disappeared. He was replaced by something that only reminds her of Caul. Miss. Peregrine didn't want to think this way but it had been programmed into her psyche and should remain.

How she could even compare her Enoch to Caul is horrid.

He towered over her, the saliva from his words sprinkled down on her face, his eyes went black and his face red as blood she can't wash off her hands no matter how hard she scrubs. A vein popped out from his temple and seemed too close to bursting.

Alma didn't know what to do.

She was terrified.

She was terrified of her Enoch then she did something that made her more scared of herself than anything. She hit him. Nothing was going through her mind, nothing had prompted her, she just hit her Enoch.

He stopped mid-sentence and looked down at her, his Miss. Peregrine and she looked transfixed. She didn't do anything but found that she was elsewhere and no where near herself. She looked down at her hands, amazed that they are hers, she'd seen them everyday of her life but yet they are unfamiliar.

"Eno…" she tried when she came back to herself. Her mouth hung agape at the situation in which they have been found a lifetime ago. "I'm so sorry…I…" she said as tears well in her eyes. She made a promise to not cry about a boy whom which she will never speak of but never did she think for a moment that she would become the monster. She's the beast, she's the bad guy, she's the Hollow that her young boy is afraid of.

"I…I'm…" she tried again.

When they both came back to their senses, they looked at each other. Enoch is a few inches taller than her and more broad in the shoulders, bigger in the waist and hips but he isn't too heavy. He's gotten skinnier since Victor's death.

Enoch's tears fell in large drops, falling like water color only the painter used too much red making his face puff and his dark eyes fall out of his head at how much water has escaped him.

"I just…" Enoch stuttered, "I loved him. Miss. Peregrine, I loved him…" he said though a shaky voice.

"Oh, sweetie…" she cried as she pulled him into a hug and collapsed on the floor by the weight of the boy in her arms. She whispered comforting words into his ear as he attempted to stop shaking but without success.

"I loved him but I was too ashamed to tell you…or him…"

"Oh no, sweetie. Shh…it's alright, it'll be okay…" Alma told him petting his head. "There's no need to be ashamed because you love someone."

 _I…I shouldn't…_

Miss. Peregrine's own words hit her harder than a train at full speed. If one love's someone, the pair should have told them because one never knows if one will have time. Alma always meant to, she always wanted to, maybe she did but didn't remember which goes to show how little she must have said it.

Just another promise broken like a clock. That's what life felt like, a broken clock doomed to tick at the same second for eternity until, eventually, it just faded into nothing. She had always wondered what it might have been like if she had told him before he went and got himself shot. Yes, she loved her life in the Time Loop, maybe because a side effect of living in a Loop was psychotropic. Sometimes, when the rest of the island in the little world she created was supposed to be asleep save for a lonesome owl or a stream that kept trickling, she sat in the library with a glass of wine and her pipe and wondered. She looked beyond the wall paper, beyond the house, beyond the island, instead, she looked at the young woman who stood waiting on the platform for her beloved.

 _He was so stupid; he was so stupid…_ She did not think about Enoch but of Aaron, _her_ Aaron.


	25. Chapter 25: The Master of Time

"Jake, it's time to wake up…" Miss. Peregrine cooed over the teen.

"…mhhmh..." Jake muffled into his pillow. "mh…really sick…" he whispered. His face went a sickly pale as he shot out from his bed, bumping the headmistress and ran down the hall into the bathroom slamming the door behind him. Miss. Peregrine followed and knocked on the door as Jake began to spew everything from the night before.

"Jake, are you alright?" she inquired. Her response was a gut wrenching gargle as the contents of the boy's stomach emptied. When Jake knew there was nothing left, he flushed the toilet, after washing his hands and face, he rinsed his mouth.

After Jake was finished, he unlocked the door to the Bird. Her face was stricken with worry. She led him back to bed and tucked him in. She felt his forehead with her hand and took note that he was sweating and warm.

"Are you feeling any better?" she asked concerned. Jake shook his head and turned away from her, unable to look her in the eye due to guilt over what had happened. "What hurts?"

"Everything…" Jake was hung over, a feeling he'd never experienced, sore because of the events that transpired during his and Emma's encounter, and severely dehydrated.

"Alright," she responded. "I'll just get you some medicine." The Bird told as she got up from her seat and went downstairs and into the kitchen where the rest of the children, occupying themselves with random things, were awaiting the few that still remained upstairs.

"Where's Jakey?" Olive asked as she held a doll, stopping Miss. Peregrine in her tracks.

"He's sick, I need to get him some medicine." She told the child that was just barely reached Miss. Peregrine's midsection, the child used to be smaller but since their days in the Loop in Cairnholm, she'd gotten bigger and was growing more each passing day, too quickly for Alma's liking.

 _Damn time all to hell…_

"Oh, I don't like medicine or being sick." The child told her 'mother' honestly.

"Okay, I'll make you a deal, if you can be quiet, as Jake is really sick, you won't have to take medicine. How's that sound?" Miss. Peregrine asked shooting the child a wicked grin.

"Does Claire have to be quiet too?"

"Yes, she does, the same goes for the Twins." She explained as she brushed her finger on the bridge of the child's nose and walked away. Alma rummaged the cabinet and found what she was looking for.

When she gave Jake the medicine and a glass of cool water, she went to Emma. It was the same story, too sick to get out of bed minus the vomiting. To which she administered the same dose of medication with a fresh cup of water and the same concern over the child under her care.

 _Oh Bird, maybe the children are coming down with a bug…_

* * *

Miss. Alma LeFay Peregrine was the master of time. She was able to bend it to her will, able to live in the same day forever even when there was no more Earth in which to walk, no more sun to shine and no more time to tell. She harnessed the power that drew from her fingers and bend the space around and reverse. It was quite a sight to watch a Loop reset.

Dependent on the surroundings, sometimes rain seemed to lift right off the ground, puddles once there no longer, birds that passed hours ago passed again in reverse, the wind sipped itself back putting fallen leaves in their place. In which the inhabitants would see again, all this and nothing else, the day never changed and tomorrow would never come.

They were condemned to live in a hell disguised as a safe haven.

Miss. Peregrine was the master of the universe's greatest enemy. However, she could not make it pass quicker, she was only able to reverse the day gone by. She could not forget her mother, who Alma found was in no way Peculiar. She could not forget the father, whom she never really knew but whose noble blood ran though her own veins. She would never be able to forget her brothers, whom left scars both emotional and physical. She was never able to forget the sister she might have had if there weren't complications with mother's health at the time but the person who she never wanted to forget was Olly, her Olly.

When he died, as all of her family had done, save for her children, he was placed in a waiting mortuary. When she received word of her grandfather's death, she left Miss. Avocet's academy and went back home despite the fact that she might age. She would have only aged a few years and she was fine with that, it made her appearance older than that of her brothers but she didn't care.

"Grandmama, where is he?" she asked storming through the door of the house she once lived in as a child. She looked around, the drapes were drawn, making her eyes adjust to the darkness and dust cluttered the furniture as well as Alma's nose.

"He's gone Alma; he's gone…" Philomena told her from the darkness.

"Your lying…" she cried in nothing more than a whisper. "show me…" she pleaded.

When they arrived at their destination, the pair stepped out onto the cobblestone pavement, Philomena requesting assistance from her granddaughter, Alma looked to the building that towered over her. The building was nothing compared to modern standards but nevertheless was larger even for the century in which she walked.

When they entered, Philly asked to see her husband.

"What is his name?" the man asked sitting behind a desk and when he looked up was swept with the enigmatic beauty of the young woman standing behind the elder. Alma looked around at the room, the walls were painted a blue cement with a grungy white border and a poor excuse for a man.

She continued to look and upon further inspection found the floor the be somewhat filthy as well.

"Absalom Peregrine." Philomena answered not receiving the full attention from the attendant. Alma noticed the man's stare but could not care anymore than was necessary.

"Of course…"

They reached their destination in an uncomfortable silence, just a perk to having a stranger stare at a mourning granddaughter and a wife who knew nothing of what to do as she'd spent the entirety of her life with Absalom. He died and she felt nothing, not a hint of remorse, not joy, no pain…it was simply nothing. She was not happy that he had died and she did not feel grief.


	26. Chapter 26: Another Life

Hello dear readers, or no readers. If you've stuck around for this long than kudos to you, and thanks for not screaming at me because I haven't updated in so long. Let's see…almost a month now. I didn't mean to put off writing, I've just been so busy with college stuff. Anyway, this is my update and hopefully it'll make up for what I was putting off.

-Your daily dose of romance

* * *

Miss. Peregrine knew what had happened last night. She wasn't that thick. She knew that Jake and Emma had stuck out. When she'd left Horace, to go to her own bed, she completed her nightly ritual of brushing her teeth and hair that she braided, put on her night clothes, made sure she had a fresh glass of water on her night stand and washed her face. When that was finished, she rubbed lotion on her palms and fingers, made sure her bedroom door was closed but not locked, then slipped into bed.

She closed her eyes and unbeknownst to her exhausted body, fell asleep.

It was then, she noticed that something was amiss. The kilter of the house shifted. She lay there for a few minutes, tossing and turning and finally with her pillows behind her back to keep herself propped up, Alma rested her head against the head board. As she didn't know what this something was, she mentally checked a list in her head.

 _Did I remember to turn off the oven?…Yes._

 _Did I make sure the front door was locked?…I believe I had._

 _Is the night light on?_ Sarcastically, she thought, _No, Alma. It isn't, You've just become nocturnal._

 _Quiet me!_

 _Fine, lighten up will 'ya?_

 _I appreciate the attempt, thanks, but I'm not in the mood._

 _Sorry, just trying to help._

Alma shook her head and continued on with her list: _Is the spare room door open? Of course, it always is…_

"What is it?" she whispered aloud. Furrowing her brows she inhaled a deep sigh. She tilted her head and put her thumb to her lip. She looked around at the objects in her room for help.

Sitting on her vanity chair, she saw a doppelgänger. However, contrary to the other two, this one wore her reading glasses, held a book and her hair was in a pony tail, something Miss. Peregrine would never wear unless she was doing something that required housework and a bun or flowing locks wouldn't do. Her clothes, most notably her sweater, looked over used and had something of a well lived life.

This Alma was detached, smarter, the scholar, the reader, the one that revolved around logic and reasoning.

"Which one are you?" Alma asked sitting higher in the bed.

"You've already figured it out." The scholar answered not bothering to look up from the page of her book. Alma felt stupid, of course she had, this doppelgänger had pointed out the obvious.

"So, why are you here?"

"You've already met a few other manifestations." She said her eyes still skimming the page before her.

"Yes."

"I wasn't asking a question, I am you and know this to be fact."

"Okay. But why are you here?" Alma inhaled a deep sigh and was quickly becoming annoyed with this figment of her maddening mind.

 _I really need help, and more help than I, myself can give…myself._

"No we don't." The Scholar finally looked up from her book. "The reason I'm here is to point out the obvious. As you were going to bed, the house was creaking and you elected to ignore it. However, the subconscious part of your mind, responsible for storing and retrieving data, heard this and well, I and the others…"

Alma cut her off before she could continue, "Others? What others, I've only met three of you."

"Well, there are many different personas a single person can take on, think of it as something that resembles Schizophrenia. However, I'm not here to tell you how we came to be, but what I am here to tell you is this: the reason you feel 'off'," the Scholar raised her fingers and made quotation signs, "is because something is missing."

"What is it?" Alma asked getting slightly worried.

"You don't know, so neither do the rest of us. We're only here to advise you, but keep in mind, we're simply figments of your imagination."

 _CAUL!_

"The children…"

With that, Alma sprang from the bed, mortified for her children's safety. Little did Alma know, she'd been sleeping, and in her sleep managed to dream of herself. So, when she got out of the bed, she fell onto the floor and bumped her head on the night stand.

"Fils de pute." When Miss. Peregrine elected to swear, which was never often, sometimes, she'd swear in her second tongue. She was never taught this part of language, but in fact picked it up when she went back to Paris after her grandfather's death and elected to live with her grandmother until Philomena's passing.

When she woke, she found herself sitting on the floor and rubbing her head.

Then she remembered the reason she was sitting on the floor in the first place. "My children…" She ran out of her bedroom and into the one a few doors down in which contained children.

She saw a sleeping Claire and Olive, as they had the closest possible room to Miss. Peregrine. Beyond that was the Twins, then Emma and Bron's. The boys slept at the other end of the hall opposite the girl's. Hugh and Horace were the closest and Jacob and Millard's room was at the very end off to the left. The stairs to Enoch's attic connected with that of which led to the second story.

In Miss. Peregrine's hustle to the door, she'd made quite the clamor and stirred Claire, and when she moved, an old picture fell from the small child's hand. Though the light that bled from the hall, Miss. Peregrine took note of this and walked into the room intent with placing it on the nightstand as she feared that it would be lost if she were to do otherwise. She bent down, and wanting to give the child privacy, decided against looking at it, however, the ghost of an image caught her eye.

The man in the picture was blonde and his beard was straggly, his clothes were worn and at the knee and hem of this trousers were dirtied with dried mud. His sleeves were short for his arms and he had the eyes of a familiar man.

This was someone she knew in a past life that she recalled in years gone by, more than an old friend.

This man had been locked away in the back of Alma's mind but would seldom come to when she felt the need for companionship as the affection received from a child only went so far.

He'd known her and she loved him.

This man was her Aaron and she was his love.

Alma's confirmation was the girl he stood by in this picture. It was Alma herself, not in this life but in a past one, the one that still haunted her. The life with Olly and Aaron, the father she never knew and the mother she never truly loved. Yes, she'd been heart broken to receive word that all the people who were her biological family had died but she never really knew that they were there, not in the physical sense but on an emotional level. There was always a bit of doubt that they never did love Alma, they only tolerated her. She knew them, but she never _knew_ them. She only knew what she was taught and what she was told. She was born and raised only to die in the end like all the rest, and maybe that's were Mr. Barron drew his ideas for immortality _._

She never knew true love until she met her Emma, her very first charge. And with that, she found the children unlocked a part of her she never knew she had. She'd been drifting though life, she'd been living the same day, quite literally, over and over until she met every new child. With them, she grew into what she was today, she became encapsulated by the loves of her life and never would they be brought harm and never would they know hunger and pain, fear and sadness. If they came to her doorstep having known this, she did what ever it possibly took from her to make them heal and they did, eventually, with time.

But still, Alma was stuck, she wanted to leave her childhood, she wanted to leave the dead to rest, but in the middle of the night, or when the stoke of a paintbrush went just right or when she lingered in a place for too long, she remembered them. She would sigh and walk away from what was being done and take a few minutes to herself, to close her eyes and think on life's past events.

Then, it dawned on her… _In another life, Claire might have been my child…_


	27. Chapter 27: A Bit of Romance

Miss. Peregrine knelt down in the front yard planting flowers. As her and her charges lived in a place that was sunny year round, despite the fact that it was nearing August, she was planting flowers. This was something that she'd picked up from Fiona and something continued to do in her memory. She'd learned this trait from her when they lived on the island and was something she liked to do though she never needed to as Fi's Peculiarity was growing plants, but it kept Miss. Peregrine busy and gave her something to do. It was better to remember than mourn after all, something that Miss. Peregrine's therapist told her and she took it to heart.

"Miss. Peregrine!" she heard someone call over the fence she knelt before. She was planting Fiona's favorite flowers, daisies. The Bird looked up and saw none other than Carlisle.

"Miss. Peregrine, I was hoping to see you." He told her, bringing a blush to Alma's cheeks.

"Hello, Mr. Stewart. How are you?" she greeted, trying to be polite despite the history the couple shared.

"I'm fine, great actually. And you?"

"I'm…I'm," she tried to think of the right word, "…commemorating." She said continuing on in her work.

"Really?" he asked with genuine interest.

"Yeah, one of my charges, Fiona. She loved daisies. It was her favorite flower."

"Was?" Carlisle asked tilting his head.

"Yeah, she passed about a year ago." Miss. Peregrine told him as she swallowed a lump that had formed in her throat.

"Oh, I'm so sorry…if you'd like to be left alone…" he began.

"No, please. Besides, Fi would have wanted the company."

"Okay, can I give you a hand?"

"Yes." The Mistress of the house told him. Carlisle made his way over to the fence's door and entered the yard. He knelt down to the grass, despite the fact that his pants would have grass stains and began to dig a shallow hole using the trowel.

As he placed the budding plant into the grave he asked, "How old was she? If you don't mind my asking."

"She would have been fifteen last month."

"Oh," he sensed this was obviously a very sensitive topic and decided against pursuing it. "Did you read the book I gave you?" he asked shifting his weight from one knee to the other.

"Oh yes, I began it a few days ago just after you'd given it to me."

"And what'd you think?"

"So far, I like it. I like how the author weaves the words onto the page. He makes you think that what he means is sincere, however the imprint it leaves on one's mind is sure to fade." she answered like a critic. She sensed that Mr. Stewart was slightly distraught by her comment and quickly added, "I like it so far, actually." It wasn't a lie, as she did like the book but found that it lacked incentive.

"Oh, I'm glad that you do." Carlisle's happy demeanor quickly came back. "I've been thinking about my…" he tried to find the right word, "…transgression against you…" he began.

"I thought that you and I agreed that what happened didn't happen at all."

"Yes, I know, however, I was thinking about it…"

 _So was I._

"…and I think I know how to make it up to you because I can't leave this the way it is. I don't want you to feel scared of me, I wasn't myself and I think I've come back."

"Oh?" Miss. Peregrine's interest was piqued and wanted to know more.

"Yeah, I have a proposition, only you can't say 'No.' because it would make me feel terrible and I wouldn't know how to approach you or your children without thinking about what had happened and seeing as we live right next door to each other…"

Miss. Peregrine let him continue whilst they both continued on in their gardening.

"I figured that you're a woman who likes to be romanced and would prefer a paramour as opposed to anything else."

"Well, you've certainly gone though this thoroughly, haven't you?"

"Yes, and I was wondering if you'd like to take a walk with me and talk about what I'm proposing in a more private setting."

Miss. Peregrine looked up from her gardening and into Carlisle's eyes, big and dark. He begged like a puppy wanting attention from it's master. Miss. Peregrine found it amusing, a man that was she'd thought the apex of a man knelt with her, digging holes, planting flowers in memory of one of her children and found this agreeable. She did not condone his actions against her and it was true, she did like a bit of romance. She'd read about it in her novels and volume books. She'd wanted what he was offering her, however, she never knew this. She wanted someone to hold her in the midst of night when she coward beneath her blankets wanting a bit of slack.

She wanted someone to vent to when she needed and the children wouldn't suffice. She wanted someone to know that she wasn't okay, she never thought she needed this as she supposed that she never needed anyone to ground her, but at the same time, she wanted it, maybe it was vanity or greed. She put on a brave face, her eyes never telling anyone different, that she was breaking. The stresses of being a single woman, with eleven children to look after never did occur to her that, emotionally, she was drained, physically, she was tired, spiritually, she was hopeless.

She had her children, they were her top priority and nothing anyone would ever do would change that, Carlisle knew that he would never be her number one, and still, he wanted it.

To Carlisle, Alma was not just another pretty face to see and take home later only to leave never be heard from again, she was different.

The fact that someone was different has long since been overused and rewritten far too many times but that's what she was. He didn't know what it was and was intent on finding out. Perhaps it was the fact that the entire household Miss. Peregrine ran was different. However, so much as Alma knew, Carlisle did not know about Peculiardom and the fact that the woman was a Syndradist. He wanted to know what made her different from the other women he'd met. He was genuinely interested in what a possible relationship with this woman had to offer and it seemed so was Miss. Peregrine.

"Yes, might we leave when the chores around the house are completed and the children know who the strange man their headmistress is in the company of?"

"I'd very much love to meet your children, Miss. Peregrine." Carlisle said turning a light pink and giving her a smile.

"Please, call me Alma." she said returning the smile.

"Then I suppose you're going to have to call me Lyle, besides, it's a lot easier than having to say _Carlisle_ ," he put more emphasis on the name, "every time you need my attention. You know, I can honestly say I hate my name now that I think about it." he giggled.

"I like the name, it sounds Victorian." she flirted, something she had never done in an entire life time, but supposed she'd get better with time.


	28. Chapter 28: A Bit Peculiar

Before they stepped inside, they stood on the stoop of the house. "I must warn you," Alma turned to Lyle before she granted entry, "I don't normally allow strangers into the house as the children aren't quite used to shall we say, social situations. They may come off as a bit peculiar…"

"I've never liked conformity and I believe that, for everyone to be a certain way and to have no choice in the matter of who they wish to be is worse than anything I can name. I've always believed that one should have the right to chose what and who they want to be, they should have the right to believe in things they wish, to dress as they wish, to do as they wish, so long as it's not something terrible like committing homicide…or something."

Miss. Peregrine thought of all the times she had to kill policemen and certain other townspeople, must notably the banker, the shop owner, the museum caretaker, and the tavern server that came to her old house when they lived in Cairnholm and started accusing her or her children of crimes.

"Yeah, me too…" she tried, faking a smile. She agreed with what he'd said, as she could reset the Loop when the time came offering the lives of the people she'd killed back but the matter still stood, she never liked having to do it. She never took pleasure in the matter but what had to be done was done.

"I'm glad that you can keep an open mind, however, I'd have to ask you open it a bit further and explore the possibilities of…magic and peculiarities and things that cannot quite be explained. As you are a writer I do not believe this will be a problem?"

"No, I've always liked a bit of adventure and mystery." he said running his fingers though his hair and for the briefest of seconds thought that Lyle had bit off a bit more than he could chew, but went along with her anyway.

"I'm glad, because the world in which I and my charges live is filled to the brim with these and has, on occasion, spilled over the top. I find myself struggling to explain it myself and I play a pivotal role in matters such as these. But, I must please ask, actually beg, that you do not not, as Jake would say, 'Freak out.'."

"I've taken a few acting classes when I was younger and I'm sure I can manage what ever it is that has you a bit more than worried." he told her, unsure if it would be accepted to place his hands on her shoulders to help calm the both of them. He decided against it as he wasn't quite sure what the boundaries were to the relationship.

Miss. Peregrine turned and walked up to the front door of the house accompanied by Lyle. They stepped inside and she closed the door. He took in his surroundings and found the home to be quite inviting. It was warm with a breeze as the windows were open and smelled like pipe smoke, the smell that had not been able to be blown was cooking, possibly from their morning breakfast and flowers that sat on a small shelf with books and a few trinkets that looked to be homemade with tiny hands. Upon further inspection, each sculpture told of the charge that had made these and the date completed.

"Would you like anything to drink? We have lemonade." she offered, extending her hospitality.

"Yeah, a glass of water would be just fine, thank you." They made their way to the kitchen and as she rummaged the cupboard, he took a seat at the island.

She gave him the glass, "Thank you." he responded as he took a sip.

She leaned up against the counter, her arms folded in front of her and looked into his eyes. He noticed her lashes extended very far from her face and wondered if her had the genetic mutation, CdLS. He looked into her eyes and they told him that she was scared, she was stepping out of her comfort zone and this was new to her.

He stole a few more sips from his glass, sighed and asked, "Ready?" Alma thought for a second and nodded. They both knew that they were stalling with Carlisle getting a drink before the encounter with the children, both trying to think of what to say, figuring out the first few sentences and then going blank.

"Into battle we go…"


	29. Chapter 29: Mr Peregrine

When they stepped into the living area Miss. Peregrine called out to the children.

"Children, might I have a word?" her voice echoing through the door's frame. As Hugh was the first person to come, and was acquainted with the man standing near the fireplace, he was simply surprised to see him and said as much. Carlisle opened his mouth and began to speak but as the words left his lips, the youngest one's ran and out of noticing the man who they'd never formally met but knew his face, grew shy at his presence in the house. Although, it may have had something to do with the fact that he did seem slightly intimidating and the children decided against running and walked slowly.

Lyle continued to stand with his mouth hanging agape, upon finding this, he closed it quickly. He heard something stomping with the patter of something heavy being lifted and dropped and lifted and dropped again, turned away and saw a little girl standing before him wearing the most oddest of shoes. They looked heavy and had a slight heel.

Miss. Peregrine asked the children to sit and wait a few more moments for the others. When he looked around, Carlisle noticed something off, what he saw was a pair of cargo shorts paired with a t-shirt walking into the space in which a majority of the household occupied and nothing else. Thinking he was hallucinating as the temperature of the city in which they lived was a few degrees hotter than normal, he blinked a few times and to his surprise, the body that should have been wasn't. It looked to be ghost wearing an outfit of boy's clothing.

A bead of sweat grew from the top of his forehead and slid down.

Alma's voice rang in his ears, _"…do not, as Jake would say, 'Freak out'."_

He continued to stare in awe while internally he was blank, and petrified as he thought that if he were to look away, the sight, or lack thereof, would vanish and a child would appear to be wearing the clothes that it already seemed to be inhabiting.

Alma's paramour attempted to keep his cool despite his entire world beginning to falter. Everything he knew from childhood was a lie. His father, who had been a stone-cold realist, told him that everything that included things such as magic and monsters and dragons and everything else in between was never real. He grew to despise his father based on Carlisle having a childhood without imagination and when the boy grew, he believed what he wanted.

He believed that adventure can be found in the tiniest of cracks in the wall, that the dust might be sentient and they had a city. That bees were anamorphic or the possibility that this was true wasn't as slim as most adults had come to believe. Carlisle refused to not see the idea that things such as these might have been true, but to see it before his own eyes…

These fantasies he could make into reality was one of the many reasons he'd decided against his parents wishes to become a lawyer and chose to write. He took his readers to worlds they would have never known and left just a bit of doubt in their minds that it might be true. That Carlisle Stewart, the New York Times Bestselling author, the Newbery Medal Award winner, the man who couldn't even keep a girl for more than a few weeks, could weasel his way into their minds and make fiction become reality. That it all might have been a lie and Carlisle's writings were the Bible.

When he came back to himself and remembered that staring was rude now reduced to a few passing glances that lingered a bit too long, everyone was present and accounted for including Jake and Emma, as their sickness only lasted a day and it had been several, Miss. Peregrine began to speak through the awkwardness.

"Children, this is Mister Stewart, the neighbor from next door. Jake, Hugh, I believe that the three of you are acquainted."

"Yes, Ma'am." Jake agreed. "Mister Stewart, we really are sorry about the window." Although it had been more than a few months since the initial encounter, Jake believed that his visit might have had something to do with it, logic only dictated it and what he was about to hear threw all of his logic out the damned window.

"I know, Jake, I know." Carlisle's confidence grew and began to take over as his personality was more the Alpha than Omega. "However, that is not the reason for my visit."

Lyle looked to Miss. Peregrine so she could continue, to which she offered, "I've decided to try something that I never have, maybe in a past life, but not this one. It's something that I hope most of you will be happy to know and that I need to try this, _for me_. You know that I care deeply for each of you and that none of you can never be replaced, however, past events have been resurfacing lately which has led me to be not in the best mind state of a headmistress and I've been mentally kicking myself over it. Carlisle has offered something that I think I might need. I know that I'm only thinking of myself when I say the words that are coming out of my mouth, but I think in the long run, it'll be better for all of us that I at least try. If it doesn't work out then I can forget about matters such as these and focus on being the best mistress I can be." Finally coming out with what she had to say, she took a few moments to herself, inhaled a sigh as she had been growing nervous to say the next few words that were about to leave her lips.

"Mr. Stewart and I have decided to pursue a romantic relationship…"

The charges understood what she was getting at but it wasn't clicking. It wasn't getting though. They were trying to stay calm and not bombard the new couple with a dozen questions at once, but as always, when she came back to herself, Emma was the first to voice the main question that was on all of the minds of Miss. Peregrine's home.

"Wait," she stopped Miss. Peregrine's monologue, "does he know about…us? What we are?"

"No, but as today has been a rather interesting one and an emotional rollercoaster for the both of us, we'll get there eventually, after we've talked a few things over."

"Wait, so your letting a man, who has no idea what we are…what you are, in here and just breaking what we've taken so long to build?" Enoch said with no hint of remorse, if this was a meeting, he was going to voice his concerns.

"Mister O'Conner, as you are the oldest, I'd expect better manners from you." Miss. Peregrine was quick to defend.

Carlisle stepped forward and voiced his opinion as well, "I know that this may seem rather very sudden, but I'd like to think that this would be good for the both of us." He wasn't trying to tell the house what would be the best, as that wasn't his place but, the children aside, he thought it might be the best course of action. He'd been thinking of Alma for the past few months more than he should have and was driving him near insanity. He thought this was best way he knew how to stop it and if it wasn't then, oh well.

"I do care for Miss. Peregrine and I'd never dream of intentionally hurting her…" he began.

"Are you going to be my Daddy?" Claire asked, as she was the youngest, she had no sense of filtering and spoke true to her mind, a trait that Miss. Peregrine would hope she were to keep, but sometimes, things needed to be left unsaid.

"Wh…what?" Mr. Stewart asked dumbfounded.

"Are you going to be my Daddy? Miss. P. is the only mother I've ever known and that would make you my Daddy, wouldn't it? Is your name going to be Mr. Peregrine, your last names have to match, don't they?"

Unsure of how to answer, as this was not Mr. Stewart's territory, grew redder than a tomato and looked to Miss. Peregrine. She was little to no help whatsoever as she wasn't expecting such a ridiculous question. He decided take the matter into his own hands and answer. Mr. Stewart stepped closer and knelt down before Claire, his eyes at the same level as hers.

He bit his lower lip and tilted his head diagonally and think for a moment, "Um…I'm not sure yet as Miss. Peregrine and I have just begun this relationship and not even we are sure where it's going to go. We might just even become good friends if it doesn't work out. However, I do wish to remain in your lives, everyone's," he looked around at the children and finally to the Headmistress, "for a long while." He smiled thinking he won the battle of numerous awkward questions that were sure to come.

"Oh, okay." Claire said sounding slightly defeated.

* * *

When the impromptu meeting was disbanded, some of the children went outside to play and others found different things to do, while Jake and Emma sat in a swinging chair.

"What are you thinking about?" Jake asked Emma as they watched the children play.

"Well, the Bird has got a boyfriend and that in of itself is kinda crazy. A woman who for years and years never needed anyone but us and now…this!"

"I'm with you on that one but, this might actually be good for her. Like you said, she was alone for years, with you guys of course but imagine the stress that it can leave someone with. You all are my family and even then I don't think I'd be able to put up with you guys for this long on my own. In fact, I commend her." Jake teased.

"Shut up!" Emma laughed playfully hitting him in the arm. "It wasn't all bad, but even I have to admit it, we are pains in the asses sometimes, especially Enoch."

"Don't let him hear you say that, he might kill you and just have to bring you back to life."

They both shared a laugh while unbeknownst to them, the window to the attic was open. Enoch heard them and their remarks chipped away just a bit of the unstable foundation he'd built living in Florida.

While the rest of the family whispered in hushed tones about Miss. Peregrine and Mr. Stewart, there was a stranger watching them. He was a ways away so he knew that he wouldn't be seen and couldn't be heard, but there was one occupant that he was looking for. Yes, she'd changed, she didn't wear black dresses that reached to her ankles and she seldom put her hair in a but but he could pick her out of a crowd of thousands.

It was Alma, _his Alma._ His _little birdie._ The thought that she was so close and didn't know that her and her charges lives were in danger brought a sadistic smile to his face.

* * *

Okay, I know that I rarely ever leave footnotes, I just wanted to say 'Wow!'. I'm getting so much positive feedback from this story and I hope that it lives up to the expectation that I, as a writer, have placed on it. I want to write the best for you, my readers, and I hope that this is enough. I just thought for a passing second in the beginning of the year that it would be interesting if Miss. Peregrine had a person in her life that knew nothing about who and what she is and now it's turned into this! Over 12,300 reads as of June 6th at 2:47 in the morning where I am. That's crazy, I just thought a few, not even a hundred reads, even just glancing at it, but this? This is what keeps me writing, and I just wanted to say thank you! Thank you for motivating me when even I didn't think the story would get this far.

I hope that you all out there are liking it and if there is anything you want to see happen let me know and I'll see what I can do!

As always,

~Your daily dose of romance


	30. Chapter 30: A Storm Coming

As the new couple walked along the pavement going anywhere, Lyle thought of the best way to ask about the invisible boy without being offensive. He was far more than curious and his knowing was not a want but a need.

 _Was it an experiment?_

 _Did he fall in acid that melted away his physical appearance?_

 _What happened to the two kids that wore hoods and masks? Is it because they burn from the sun and haven't built a tolerance for the radiation?_

He shook the thoughts from his mind and just went with it outright. "Alma, I need to know, what happened to the kids that wear masks and the kid that…" he tried to think for lack of a better word, "is invisible."

"I had more than a feeling that you were going to ask about that."

"Well, yeah. I mean, it isn't normal, is it?" Obviously, these were questions that needed answers. "Alma, I need to know, I mean, I have to."

She took a deep sigh and began to tell him all that she knew. "I and my charges are known as something called Peculiar. It's a recessive gene carried by families going back generations. A family can go for a hundred years and never have a Peculiar child then suddenly, there they are. It is unknown why this happens but that's why I look after them, the protect and teach them about how to use what they have been given. To nurture their talent and be a support structure for when times are difficult for them. I was born an Ymbryne…" she began.

"An Ymbryne?" he asked.

"Yes, we'll get to that later, dear." she answered with a generic nickname she gave to people. "My mother knew this as it only skipped a generation, my grandmother had the ability to manipulate her vision and was therefore able to see in darkness and not be blinded by the light. My grandfather was able to turn into a peregrine falcon, although that never was very useful. Anyway, I and my brothers were sent to live with my grandparents as they knew more about matter such as these. In time, we left to a home for Peculiar children, much like mine, with only slight differences of course."

"Like what?" he asked, if given the opportunity, Carlisle would write about something like this, with the permission of the main characters of course.

"The home that we went to was for girls, but as threats from my grandparents being found out were growing, Miss. Avocet, the headmistress, offered to take them. I looked up to Miss. Avocet and she thought of me as her equal. So there I learned about who and what I am and when I became a headmistress, I found my family. It was the only thing I wanted to do. It was the only thing I wanted to be."

Carlisle looked at her and finally realized that the children were her entire life. He believed that if she were without them that she'd be nothing, a husk of her former self. She loved them more than anything that had a name and they were more than a family and less at the same time and Carlisle wasn't about to let anything, even him, come between her and her children. The family had been put through a kind of hell simply because they were different and that each and every Peculiar in Miss. Peregrine's home was a support for the others as they were for them.

It was something Carlisle never had and he wanted in. He didn't quite know her yet but everything Alma was able to give him, he wanted, desperately. He didn't love her, he couldn't, not yet. It was far too early for feelings of deep emotion. Carlisle didn't care that her and her children were vastly different from normality, but he never liked social conformity and this thing people called 'normal'. He wanted something different, a change in lifestyle, he wanted someone different and Alma was the person he'd spent his entire life looking for.

She was beautiful and smart and motherly. She had emotions that ran deep and he read them like a book.

It was something like this that Alma seemed to crave, she had motherly affections and put it into everyday life, but sometimes, being a mother, especially to nine children was difficult. Alma found that Carlisle was something else, she didn't intend to meet him and thought of it as a happy accident. She found him intriguing, as he didn't run for the hills as soon as he met her charges. He accepted them for who they were, with more than a few questions, and had past Alma's test. She wanted to see if he was able to handle the life he asked for and he did remarkably well.

"I can understand that. You wanted to give something back, for all Miss…I'm sorry what was her name?"

"Miss. Avocet, Esmerelda Avocet." she helped.

"Yes, you wanted to give something back for all Miss. Avocet had given you."

"That is exactly right." She smiled, she found that it was nice to open up to someone about something that drove her.

* * *

"Yeah, he kept glancing at you and looking." Hugh teased as they sat in at the dining room table, dealing out a hand of poker.

"With the way he was looking at you Millard, I'd have suspected that he liked you more than more than he did The Bird." Horace joined in on the teasing.

"Yeah, well…maybe he does!" He joked, perfectly fine with the jabs. The players at the table laughed as they read the cards they were dealt. They were betting money and belongings for antes to play. They preferred not to have The Bird around when they were playing cards as often times, she would join in on the game and win most all of the hands and later, replace the belongs she'd taken so there never were any real stakes that had to be met.

"Oh well, he'd have to be crazy not to take at least a second glance. That would mean that he'd seen something like me before. Which I really doubt that he has. Even for Peculiars, I'm a bit _peculiar_." He said as he tossed a bit of money into the pot.

Bronwyn looked at her cards and folded. She was given a terrible hand and as she was losing most of her belongings, she decided it was the best move.

"Out already?" Horace asked.

"Yep. I'm losing to a bunch of losers." she joked. Then, something that had never happened for the entire time the household had been living in Florida, happened. There came a knock at the door…

Bron, decided as she was already out, to get up from her seat and went to the door. She looked out the window covered with drapes next to the door and saw a man she thought she recognized but a majority of his face was obscured from view. In the past few days she'd seen him around the neighborhood a few times and assumed lived on the same street or was visiting someone nearby.

She looked back and out of noticing a wall that separated her from the dining room, turned back. She opened the door and was greeted with a man. How grotesque the burns on his face were. His flesh was peeled and revealed parts of the bone on his face and jaw. His teeth were exposed as if something were pulling his cheek back and one of his eyes were burning red from irritation. His hair was disheveled and greasy but his clothes, his suit, looked neatly pressed. He was a contradictory of himself and it was terrifying.

"Hello, Miss. Bruntley. I'm a friend of Miss. Peregrine's. " He said barging his way into the house. His words were course and choppy. He smiled a wide smile, exposing all of his teeth and stretching the burns on his face.

"Who are you?" She didn't wait for answer before a lie escaped her lips. "Miss. Peregrine is just upstairs, I can go and get her." anxiety began to well in the pit of her stomach. She knew this wasn't right, she knew the after effect of ambrosia and he was drenched in it. He wreaked of it.

"That won't be necessary…besides, I know that she isn't here. Don't lie to me." The words bled from his lips, bitter hate spitting out on to Bronwyn. "Just, leave her a message, will you? Tell her to wrap up warm, there's a storm coming, and it's coming to get her…" with that he left leaving Bron scared out of her wits and silent as a ghost. She may as well have been as the color left her cheeks and she was horrified.

She stood there her mouth hanging open. She fell back, the wall catching her and leaned against it. She looked toward the floor but she wasn't actually looking at it.

 _Where have I seen his face? Why did I recognize him? How does he know my name?_

Then, there came a question that she didn't want to ask and when she did, a chill ran through her already cold body...

 _How does he know that Miss. Peregrine isn't here?_


	31. Chapter 31: We Aren't Safe

"Bronwyn? What's wrong?" Enoch, who'd been coming down the stairs asked. His Scottish words thick with worry.

"Uh…um…" she tried to form words but nothing was happening.

"Okay, uh…we'll just sit down over here and I'll wait for you." he said as he reached for her shoulders and let Bron to sit on the last step that led to the second story of the house. If he wanted, Enoch, could be a big glob of emotions but more often then not, he kept them inside. Sometimes, even _he_ needed to vent. Sometimes, keeping them in and not falling apart at the seams was difficult. He'd break in the solace of his attic and the vents carrying his sob, someone in the house would come up, knock on the door and in confidence, he'd say what was on his mind, more often than not, it was Olive.

He tried not to burden the family with his emotions so he did lock them inside. His caring ran very deeply, so much so that it was near the same level as Miss. Peregrine's.

Enoch knelt in front of Bronwyn and shook her a bit. She blinked a few times as she still tried to comprehend what just happened.

"I…" she breathed for a few seconds, "I was…I was playing cards with the boys…"

"What happened?" he asked growing even more concerned.

"There was a knock at the door and when…when I went to answer…"

Enoch stopped her right there, "Hang on, there was someone at the door?"

"Yes…" she breathed.

"Did you know him? What did he look like?"

"His face," the image of his burns grew in her mind's eye, "he…I'd seen him before."

"What was wrong with his face?" Enoch asked not as gently as he should have, he needed the information and never had the best reputation of bedside manners anyway.

"He was burned…burned from ambrosia…"

With that, Enoch took off, practically carrying Bronwyn. He took her to the living area and called for Jake and Emma. When they came, Emma was the first to notice the worried look on Enoch's face.

"Enoch, what's wrong?" she asked as Jake stood behind her.

"Something happened…" he indicated to Bron sitting on the sofa.

"Bron?" Emma asked as she moved to sit next to her.

Jake stood next to Enoch and the two begun to whisper in hushed tones about the events that transpired.

"Bron?" Emma coaxed.

"His face, I'd seen it before…I can't remember…"

"What is she talking about Enoch?" Emma who had been the last person in the room to be left out of the loop inquired.

"She said there was someone at the door," he began, "She said that his face was burned with ambrosia…"

Emma shot up at hearing those words and yelled, "We need Miss. Peregrine!"

"She's on her date with that pretty boy!" Enoch spoke in a few octaves higher than his normal voice.

"Did she say where she was going?" Jake helped.

"I…I don't…" Emma tried to think back, "No." she said outright when her memory gave her nothing.

"Bronwyn, do you remember anything else? Anything he said or did?" Emma asked, growing more and more concerned.

"What's with all the yelling?" Millard asked, stepping into the room.

"Someone was here, and he'd taken ambrosia." Jake said, as his words rose the anxiety of the room tenfold. "Make sure the children are alright, but don't say anything, we don't need them acting out and being scared. Just check on them."

"Okay." Millard walked back out now scared of the days to come.

"Do you remember anything else about him?" Emma asked again.

"Yes, it wasn't him, but it was something that he said, 'Leave her a message…tell her to wrap up warm, there's a storm coming and it's coming to get her.'…"

They didn't need to know who Bronwyn was referring to when she said 'her', they already knew. The tension in the room rose to an astronomical level. Emma looked at Jake who looked back still trying to comprehend what his ears heard and whether or not he even heard the words spoken correctly.

* * *

"So let me get this straight, when you first flew, you almost fainted?" Carlisle asked laughing at the absurdity of what Alma told him.

"Yes, I'm terrified of heights." She laughed with him. They sat at a table in McDonald's sharing a Twenty-Piece McNuggets meal with sweet n' sour sauce.

"But, you're a bird!" Lyle's remarks only served to make the both of them laugh harder.

"I know, but that that's the thing, birds fly all the time, one would think they'd get used to the height. When I told Miss. Avocet, she looked at me like this…" Alma made a face, her eyes bulging out of her sockets, her lips curved downward and parted slightly. "Then she goes," Alma waited a few beats, and made the most astonished voice possible, "'What?'."

"That's pretty good." They continued to laugh as they ate, they filled up on fast food and junk until their stomachs hurt either from laughter or the food but more than likely both.

"Um, I need to close my register…" a woman who obviously worked there told them. Lyle and Alma were too busy lost in the conversation that they'd forgotten about the time. They must have been out for quite a while as the sun was setting and the restaurant joint was empty besides them and the people that worked there.

"Oh, yeah." Carlisle responded his smile fading, he didn't want the night to end but knew that Alma had matters to attend to at home. They got up out of the booth, picked up their garbage and threw it in the wastebasket. They walked out and Carlisle offered to walk her home, neither really had a choice in the matter as they were neighbors after all. His date found this agreeable and said as much.

They walked in a companionable silence, the trees blew from the wind and crickets joined them in the harmony. Once in a while a car would pass, the headlights blinding them as they walked.

Then, Carlisle did something bold, he reached for Alma's hand and when she didn't retract it, it swung between them like a pendulum on a wall clock. This thumb fiddled with the ring she wore.

"It was a gift from a long time ago." she spoke when she felt his thumb.

"Oh?"

"It was my mother's, when she passed, she had it sent to my grandmother to give to me." Carlisle stopped his fiddling and examined it. It was silver band with small white diamonds bordering onto a large black one in the middle.

He looked at her and he knew what it was. They stopped and he knew that she was the one. He'd been looking for her, and he found her. He didn't believe in destiny but this was damn near close. He looked into her eyes, the setting sun catching them just right. Through her eyes, he saw twin galaxies, stars giving way to the black hole that was her pupil and the twinkle of the sun in the very middle.

He could have stared at them forever. In there, he had no sense of time whatsoever, a minute could have been hours and an hour shorter than a second. Today faded into yesterday and yesterday into tomorrow, he found himself on the thinnest line that bordered these. His life was a passing second on the clock of eternity. He felt himself slipping between the present and the distant past, he was between the not-yet-now and the not-quite-then. She was infinite but he was not.

He felt a smile rising on his lips and she stared back, the feeling mutual.

A car drove by, going far beyond the speed limit and blaring whatever kind of noise teens were listening to these days, breaking the couple out of their transfixed hypnosis.

"We should probably get going, I do have eleven children."

"Yeah, we've been a bit too long." Lyle agreed stealing one more glance.

* * *

When they reached the stoop of the house, Alma turned around to face Carlisle.

"I had a lot of fun." she said.

"Yeah?" he answered, "Me too."

"We should do this again." she told, not a question, not a command.

"Of course, you know where I live." he smiled a genuine smile and brought one to Alma's lips.

"She's back!" They heard Jake yell behind the front door. It opened rather quickly, the couple still trying to comprehend noise as the night was quiet.

"Miss. Peregrine!" Jake yelled and pulled her inside, leaving the front door open. "Something's wrong!" Alma dropped her persona of a lover on a calm evening and went into headmistress mode.

"What is it?" she asked, worried that something terrible happened and wasn't far off, in fact, she hit the bullseye.

"It's Bron, something happened." Jake said with urgency in his voice.

"Is there anything I can do?" Lyle asked stepping into the house.

"I'm not sure." Miss. Peregrine said. "Jake, you need to calm down and tell me where she is."

"She's in here." he led them into the house and into the living area, there Bronwyn sat unmoving from the position she sat where Enoch led her. Miss. Peregrine picked up her pace upon seeing her charge and knelt in front of her.

"Bron?" she asked as she reached for the hands of the teen whose nails were being bitten.

"Miss…I'm sorry. I shouldn't have…" she stuttered she said as tears of fear began welling in her eyes.

"What is it dear?" Miss. P. asked in a motherly tone.

"We were playing cards and there was a knock at the door." As Bron had already told the story, she found the words but they didn't become easier to say.

"Who was it?"

"I don't remember. But his face, it was burned…from ambrosia."

At hearing the words, Miss. Peregrine's head felt dizzy and her stomach fell to the floor. She looked down, and took her hand from Bron's and put her thumb to her lower lip. She felt a hand go to her shoulder and when she looked up, she saw Mr. Stewart standing next to her, she put her own hand over his and was quickly becoming familiar to his touch.

"Did he say anything?" she asked, fear welled inside of her.

"'Leave her a message, will you? Tell her to wrap up warm, there's a storm coming, and it's coming to get her…'"

Unable to sit on her heels, Miss. Peregrine stood, "We need to leave. We aren't safe here…"


	32. Chapter 32: AUTHOR'S NOTE

Hello fellow humans! **This isn't an update but an Author's Note.** I know that technically an author isn't supposed to leave these types of things but I suppose that I'll write a little teaser. I'm actually going to be finishing this story and if you guys want it, I'll write a sequel. I haven't thought about what it's going to be about, probably just pick up where this story left off. I just figured that this story is too long and that I need a bit of a break. So, just let me know if you guys want this to keep going, I have a few ideas...

As always,

-Your daily dose of romance

* * *

"I'm sorry, Carlisle. I'm so sorry..." Alma's voice boomed on the stereo. She looked beyond the glass window, she'd tried to break it but to no avail. Carlisle looked into her eyes one last time. He could have been there forever. In there, he had no sense of time, there wasn't a clock, there was no sun to tell the days. They faded in and out, tomorrow came when he slept an hour and yesterday passed before it arrived. His life went on for eternity and he couldn't see it stopping. Time stood still. He stopped feeling anything and he knew that he would never see her again and he could do nothing. All he could do was watch it happen.

He knew, he knew she _was_ the one. An entire life spent looking for her, and he did. He found her and for that he was grateful. His vision was blurred but he could still see her, he _saw_ her. He used his eyes to make out her frame and used his mind to fill int the blanks. In his hands, he felt the touch of her skin, he smelled her perfume waft though the air. He heard her laugh in his ears that rang...

"I'm so sorry. I...I love...I love you..." she knew she had to chose and if she went back, she'd make the same one over and over again.

 _I love you too..._ slowly, he faded out of consciousness.

* * *

Once again, hello readers! I have now published and will continue to update the official sequel to this story. It's called 'Don't Leave Me' and explores the idea of Carlisle living without Alma as he has not heard from her since she left and is unsure as to whether or not she is still alive. However, as I am currently writing for two different stories at the moment, the updates will not be as often as I'd like and will the predecessor will likely be shorter.

I just wanted you all to know that there will also likely be a spin-off exploring Alma's childhood and who she was before she became the Headmistress the children know now. It might also explain who the man that is threatening and stalking her is, so keep an eye out for that.

As always,

-Your daily dose of romance


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